him.

Blond hair,

Unbearable is the resist to stare 

Seeing you moving rhythmically to music 

Melts my heart like a jackass,

To the ceiling, I stated 

Is the sea stirred up in your eyes

Or merely weakened by their depth?

Uncannily, I have swore,

To sunbathe on 

your eyelids’ shore 

That within its sand granulas 

Voodoo is masqueraded;

Willingly, both my hands,

Already settled on my trigger;

I am thrown in Bermuda Triangle 

Where neither reversing or returning 

Allowed, but,

Still grasping With my starving lips 

That desire yours 

And with my arms that seek 

you close;

Would it turn out to be real,

Or does it just a feeling to feel.