you don't possess the howls of the wolves as captivating as it is the silence of the moon inside me, even when your thoughts, tiptoeing, love to sneak through all of me. you don't possess so many forests, which you'd been wish to grow 'em in your soul, to make me lose myself in it, to feel the rhythm of your blood's pulse when you are not around. you don't possess the necessary time to act enough for you when your whispers try to burn my lips with rhymeless verses because at once, likewise, they're longing wildly for your kiss. you don't possess even the curses... to snatch me out of any fantasy, where seems, i'm laying there, about forever, waiting for you to love me manic exactly as you promised. you don't possess even tomorrow, for how i'm loving you right now... or thru a Monday or a Tuesday... a Wednesday, Thursday or a Friday, and Saturday to not forget about the Sunday, when you're so cold to me or too-too passionate.
