You, my heart, cry me rivers,

cry me  inane  monsoons.

Hear me not listening to you

for I have given up.

I have given up the dream we once were.

My heart is hungry for the morphine of your touch.

I am thirsty for lovers’ arguments.

Now that you are gone

I want you so much again.

In the winter of my heart

my melancholy swings

to the rhythm of your dreams

waltzing our darkest desires

through the night.