I breathe counting your name
Not in numbers but in your moments
When I'm totally not what I thought
I'd be to you.
But I count on those moments
That hint every impulse about you
Seating on that place you disagreed.
All becomes delusion upon your words
All becomes dreams upon your moments
The mist, a cold gas or a wet mass.
The howls of blind babies dig my head
on your dance, many of my times.
As a dreamer waiting to dream
Without knowing what to dream
©alafat
A