As If

I kiss the morning and blame the moonless night,

as if —

as if the rose was at the mercy of the gardener and the grapes would wither out of the sommelier's sight

I dance and sing, open my eyes and dream,

as if —

as if there were never any scars on my back and there is no inner voices to numb

I ride the waves to quench all the week’s lust,

as if —

as if my eyes were jewels and my wings were made out of a diamond cast

as if you were mine

my best, my must, my always dearest