Silver nights and paper Swans

In dark spaces where dragonflies use to glow.

Why the cruelty of smelling the rain, only to feel no wetness on my face.

I miss the feeling of the moonlight on my skin.

The Thunder keeps me up all night, but I don’t mind that it’s my blissful insomnia.

A little swan made of paper to many times you cut me with your edges, so I will burn you.

Goodbye paper cuts left by tiny paper shaped swans

I smell the rain again and this time I will feel it on my face, I will spin around and around in my rainy shower.

I love you I will whisper to a tree, I only dream of knowing all the secrets that you keep.