Remember the day I’ve seen you cry
I would sip the tears from your visage
follow the stream of the sea
and kiss your moisted lips
I’ll be here, taking the pain for you,
till the passing years would dig
scars of suffering on my face.
I don’t care. Promise you’ll be mine, for now:
we will dance together, in a land without time
crazy outlines amongst the leaves swept by the wind.
I was once a man 
Never forget that I’ve seen you cry,
Squeezing the years from your soul,
Cruel streaks of my need
Silencing your quivering lips.
I shall remain present,
A thorn in your flesh year after year,
Scarring your face with lines of suffering.
You are mine now,
And for my eyes you’ll dance,
Timelessly caressed in my cold wind.
Exceptional poem, I must admit. Good enough to make me envious
My words are mere reflections,
Twisted recasting of your art –
They are nothing.
Are they really reflections?
Would them fade
if I’d distance my poem from the mirror?
I don’t think so, my friend.
You took my writing, transformed it:
Metamorphosis.
Now it exists into a new paradigm.
A butterfly just flew away
from a cocoon housed both
in my words and in your mind.
Well then,
Thank you for the butterfly.
So good, especially that last line. Kudos.