Our own piece of magic are
all those unintentional moments
that built us:
two people galaxies away
separated by the ocean,
languages, borders,
that now can touch the trust they share
as it can be felt like the electricity in the air.
Canvas and artist finally together
in the same portion of the earth,
the same blip of time,
with countless possibilities
just in the tip of the fingers,
waiting to be.
To be is all that is left:
you, me, me, you…
You own me, all of me,
all of what can’t be bought
all of what I carry on my skin
all of what is buried into my core.
You own me
at the same time that you free me,
you let me open the box
and start taking out the pieces
like an endless puzzle.
You gave me best treasure: me…
and as long as the music keeps playing
I will gift myself to you.