She is an angel,
who was sent to guard me.
A dreamer who believed.
She walked along
and listened to my prophesies.
Without her, I will lose half of me.
Nobody has ever come closer than her.
I burnt in desire,
daring to cross the line,
which was sacred.
We met and became one before we realized.
And it was as long ago
as I can remember.
We were too small
but we knew.
We held hands in an old picture.
I was four
and she was three.
A little angel I lost,
who came back
not to leave me ever.
We have to talk no more.
We understood the language of eyes.
And the language of silence.
Nothing can be hidden from her.
Telepathy is not fiction.
She is a shadow.
Life is not kind to angels,
only if it touches them.
The spirit of love.
A love transcending human relations.
The strength of hope.
The grace of a goddess.
Divine is not enough a word.
The sins which will haunt.
She is my weakness
and my greatest strength.
She will go away one day.
There will be two people between us.
And we will remain what we are.
Don't call us lovers.
We are not.
