You, my soul, cry me rivers,

cry me  inane  monsoons.

Hear me not listening to you

anymore. I have given up.

I have given up the dream we once were.

My heart is hungry for the morphine

of a female touch.

I am thirsty for lovers’ arguments.

It is only now that you are gone

I want you again.

In the summer of my heart

my melancholy swings

to the rhythm of your dreams

waltzing your unkempt desires

through your night.