It worries me to know you are turning into a poet. That your eyes can see through your soul lips can taste the flavor of plain water and your skin is touched by wind's feather steps.
You can blend with the moments.
You can hear what I never say can feel my tears on your lids. Or, that you can read my dreams from my looks. Your fingers still lock my hand in a childlike bond.
But, you don't understand I never wanted this magic to happen to you. Can't stop you from being you. It may have been a boon or curse, I don't know.
