Somewhere i have never traveled


Your slightest look easily will unclose me,

though I have closed myself as fingers.

You open always petal by petal my self, as spring opens

touching skillfully, mysteriously her first rose.

I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens.

Only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.

Nobody…not even the rain, has such small hands.


About InfluencesOnly

a television version of a person with a broken heart
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