Dear girl with pink, green and purple hair,
Dear woman of extraterrestrial origin,
Dear sugared coffee warmth and boyshort boxers,
Your mood is cocoa butter;
It smells like the third time I invaded you as mother nature,
And the first time you wanted to understand every district of me.
Your silhouette is synchronized with mine,
It feels like our oaths drawn under temptation and your grandmother’s bed quilt.
Dear world,
Your hands are tiny spirits,
I see them like lucid conceiving.
Dear world,
Your sky is a darkened orb,
It is every thread of me spun into your star.
Dear world,
To me you are girl with pink, green, and purple hair.
You are woman lone on the moon.
You are veins of whole nurture,
And you are a scent of cocoa butter I soak in each night your moon radiates in full, embracing