Her young spirit sleeps only to wake in a dream beneath every moon. A divine light strangled by responsibilities and duties from which she covets freedom only to once live the lost time. Half burnt feathers on her half broken wings make her only half beautiful but I can see the truth that hides behind her masks. Clairvoyant mind and an angelic heart filled with tenderness and kindest love. Foreseeing eyes of a lively lovely only seeks to be wildly free from life`s repugnance and her extraneous misery. She’s that amorphous happiness which offers joy endlessly and yearns to be offered selflessly but never asks. She heals wounds on soul but can’t erase the blotches on her heart. Sometimes she honors me with the glow that resides on her lips when they swiftly curve in a smile and I cherish the rare moments of symphonies of her guffaw. She jumps higher than zenith of life, only seldom, but very few can see what I see in her eyes. A child in early youth waiting for the youth that’s already gone without living. I will find a way to heal and give her a feel of what she never felt. She’s wept more tears than she deserved, her heart has bore more pain than is justified.

Let me wake the real you from your grisly half-sleep of an ugly pasquinade. Let me succor you, touch your soul in wakeful sentience and embrace your own angels and demons. Forget your lies and their mother and live your neglected or rejected truth. Let my spells of magic kiss you gently and softly roll all over your skin and soul to fill every ounce of emptiness with every pound of unfelt: sweet desire, delicious dreams, wonders of lost life and vehement love, summing every bit to an unfelt you.

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