The paradise was mine

I should not utter words stuck in my mind;
I won’t make that mistake again.
Too many times things had been said —
before all fell apart, as if to mock me.

The night spills black ink, so I write
for stars alone to read these cursed lines.
Do you hear them whisper? I hope not.
I hope you’re dreaming – oh, did I tell you
that I’ve seen you many times in mine?
Or rather, seen your face on either side —
and ever since, lost track which side was real.

I’ve watched you climb the highest peak
beside me at the dawn. From there
all seemed at peace, it all felt right.
It finally felt like home.
Or was it just another of my foolish dreams?
But who could see your face and hear you talk,
and not fall helplessly for you as I did?

How could I not see us together, dancing,
forgetting space-time like it matters not?
The nights we’ve spent together, as the edge
between our bodies disappeared completely –
for those still searching for a paradise, I’d say:
The paradise was mine, if only for a short time.