My Indian demon, said my soul,
I'm ill and scared
empty like a shell
poisoned by memories
lying dead in a tree-

My lost Mother, I want love,
to drink its sweetness
in a glass of wine,
to drink my sadness
in profound, blue eyes-

My sweet Child, where is love?
I thought I saw it one day
dancing in the streets of Malaga,
reflecting in the nakedness of beautiful people,
lingering in pure souls
like watermelon juice in accolades-

I am in love with love

I don't want to die alone...