Sunday night

I watch as you bloom in front of me.

you have millions of roses in your eyes only

waiting for me to kiss them one by one

to bloom

and to reach their full potential,

to have stems as sharp as to

pierce the devil with them.

we believe that my love can make you live

and you always said I had the prettiest eyes,

I stare into your soul with them

I watch as you transform

into a beautiful poem 

or a piece from Piero Piccioni

I watch you gain a belonging

and watch you fall away from me,

falling into yourself.

I watch, like the roses in your eyes

burn one by one

becoming blue hydrangeas

forgotten deep down in the sea.