Perhaps, So

I like the sound of your warm summer voice,

Tender, and organic.

Also, I like the golden threads of hair, falling

On your face of soft marble.

Your eyes of oceanic blue filled with fire and new day.

I am

A heart of flesh and blood implanted in a statue,

A heart of flesh beating in the vortex of dark nights,

A heart of flesh wondering:If love has a fragrance, flavor or a color;

If love were a happy melancholia;

If love were an untamable beast

And if it spoke in tongues.

Perhaps, love is a note of exclamation

In the systolic and diastolic heartbeats,

Or just a dream full of questions.

Perhaps, so

Perhaps, it is so.

But when it arrives,

Even a soul saturated with dirt and soil turns into

A newborn butterfly spreading its wings of fire and nights.