the enemy of love is the memory of mind,
to remember and to forget
of which has been left behind...

doth when i choose,
none, if i could...
between mind and heart,
will i be able to love in part
and whole again...

your eyes eats me whole,
like it doth devours my soul;
no other hath before,
been into the core
of my heart...


i live again. in words sowing.