Birth Of A Joy

In the middle of the night
you wake up
and guess my sleeping face.
You rest your mouth on my forehead,
you leave, carelessly,
your hand on my chest,
until our heartbeats match.




In the middle of the night,
hostile and dark,
you guard me,
shuddering with every
movement I make,
until, feminine and helpless,
you are left dreaming
like a tired angel.




In the morning
I have a joy that lives in me
all day, that assists me
all day, without knowing
what it is due to,
why it is born.

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Birth Of A Joy

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