To find a lover is easy. To find a person who brushes the nape of your neck with his lips so sweetly, hitting just the right spot, his fingertips grazing over all the places that drive you wild – that is simple.
It is normal to want nothing to do with anyone who is not family or a close friend, for a time.
I will not wait to love, to sing, to paint, to write.
Your poems remain inside you, unsung, and they turn to wanderlust. You are moved across country borders, and each time you look at a sunset from a different place or feel the spray of a waterfall against your skin.