I spent all nightweaving a poem for you to wear. You look so beautifulwhen you wear my light.

Nothing belongs to itself anymore. These trees are yours because you once looked at them. These streets are yours because you once traversed them. These coffee shops and bookshops, these cafés and bars, their sole owner is you. They gave themselves so willingly, surrendering to your perfume. You sang with the birds and they stopped to listen to you. You smiled at the sheepish stars and they fell into your hair. The sun and moon, the sea and mountain, they have all left from heartbreak. Nothing belongs to itself anymore. You once spoke to Him, and then God became yours. He sits with us in darkness now to plot how to make you ours.” K.K.

In a season like this,I wouldn't be held by the snow.With all these feelings of bliss,I've to put aside my egoAnd step out to let you know,With you, I'm well pleasedAnd the love you show,Is to me the bee's knees.

If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.

Everywhere I go, your beauty spills into my day. The trees were never this verdant. The birdsong never this sweet.