I’m weaving the trepidation

of this delicate moment

with flowers.

I want to make a crown for you:

the king of my heart.

You’re surprised when

I place that crown on your head,

but then you tenderly smile

as I stretch my arms to hug you.

I behave like a child.

With your eyes you’re undressing

my soul, taking off

layer by layer

all the resistences of

years of self-protection.

You have the power

to reveal my core.

Now we’re living together

in our personal world

where coordinates and time

can’t part us anymore.

You are the king of my heart,

I’m the queen of women in love.

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