Nonsense Poem

Love is no fun,

no fun at all,

only a big sensation

of a cosmic disorientation.

Where is there?

Where goes near?

I’m lost between

your eyelashes and

the armchair.

Where is here?

Where did go the

whole long year?

When did I loose my

better eye and ear?

Right just dissapeared

into left, and South

into East and West.

Where is there,

if not at the junction

of your function

and mine?

Though I’m no good at maths,

I arrived to the conclusion

of my soul’s revolution

that there is exactly

where the I is

with you.

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