You come in my dreams,
With grey shades,
That feel like million colors,
You speak nothing,
And it feels like hundred violins,
You smell like a burnt morning toast,
And you smell like thousand daisies,
You give me fright of my life,
And you give me calm of lifetime,
You do not touch me,
Yet I feel you caress my blood,
The enigma that you are,
Coming from the depth of my mind,
Yet so distinct from myself,
So jubilant and full of life,
I refuse to believe that you were born out of me,
And my desires and fantasies,
I may just as well be your little work?
You may just as well be my creator,
The sweet balmy fuel of my soul?
theinvertedpoetry 