Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.

The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.

When I think of you it's with tears, because no one else has such delicate hands that can reach into my soul and calm my fears.

A sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing.

You can be angry and silent, but it's no use - there's no distance in the spirit - besides, my words touch you more softly than my hands.

That icy glass reduces your beauty - dims your fire - let me be your mirror...

I have found, beauty is the illumination of the mind.