What if life was the opposite, the tables should turn.
What if she could also propose?
That she has been observing my movement.
Like the hen and the cockerel.
That she is the moth to my flame.
To tell me what I feel is not just admiration.
But something beautiful, eternal and, love
That I am the butter in her bread,
The only beads on her waist
The reason behind the arrthymias and heart blocks.
What if she is different from the former?
That she would like the sound of my voice box.
She would like the scars on my face
My only property, my black trouser
That she wouldn't be coquettish, but will remain true and true to me.
What if, what if???
