my never-to-be-man

he might not be the one

but 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