there’s a rose on my table.

I shall not touch you.

you somehow makes
an empty bottle
reminiscence about its glorious nights.

in the mix of lights
you emit your own
while making sure
not all escape in the world
around you.

your leaves breathe
as you stay still
your tilted head
reaching for my eyes.

I shall not touch you.

even when your warm color
invite me to dive deep
in the curiosity of an infant.

and how I love you.

I see more and more
of you, in the
quiet midnight.
you shimmer wildly
on my leftover night

with an empty bottle
of lambrusco, holding you
as the centerpiece of my poem.