he might not be the onebut his skin and his hands and his neck
smelled sooo good
like the smell of a crimson sunset on a cloudy day
like the dark blue shadow that set under the chin
of an eighteen-year-old-in-love
he might not be the one
but he crawled under my skin
sooo quickly
like a dream that touched the brain cells
leaving a memory of never-to-forget-an-experience
but staying forgotten for an awakened eye
he might not be the one
but i felt secure and warm and sooo right
in his arms
like a baby cuddled between the
silky virginal cloth
smelling the milk of her mother's bosoms
and he:
disappeared with the Maltese breeze
as quickly as the weather changed
within this little island
was gone with the sand on my foot
left behind
yesterday on the beach
faded with the jelly-fish sting
'cause I treated it rightly
so a scare does not mark my skin
left my heart trembling
feeling sooo tender and sooo new
and sooo alive
