Poem not yet written

With you I feel I cannot write a single word,
Your eyes tell me a poem written by unknown,
Your whisper`s like a song I`ve never heard,
Your touch can melt a pain carved from stone.

I take the only look and cannot stop the quivers,
I look aside but magnet`s pulling me to you,
Your love`s a virus and I`m kinda fevered,
It penetrates my brain, piercing my body through.

This poem starts with twilight kissing,
Continues slowly with the scarlet dawn,
Through thorny paths and quiet breathing,
Here just it goes… silent poem of our own…

This poem of two is not yet written,
Names are drawn on asphalt and erased by rain,
Faces are behind masks and eyes are hidden
But chance is only one like catching midnight train.

We write the story tearing paper into pieces,
We glue together all the puzzles of our world,
We wound ourselves by walking on the splinters
And finally here is the story not yet told.

We are the silent authors of the poem not written,
We are completing lines of the masterpiece,
Our love`s like sweetest cake that`s not yet eaten,
It`s all about the poem which began with twilight kiss…