I feel like a burglar in the hours past midnight, and then I thought, "Why should I be called a thieve when all I am taking never was his and always it was mine?"

Stealing a rose from another’s garden
with that furtive motion that says it all,
she is mine now and it will be forever
as she wasn’t mine, you know, before,
wasted her perfume in an empty house
as the red was turning to white color,
smiles went on being fewer and fewer
as I saw my flower not getting love.

If I don’t whisper now in your ears
my dearest, maybe you will never know,
that my mornings are longing the lights
caresses of your slender fingers from,
a forbidden touch only to the man
who thought that one, of all silly laws,
because if you wish you can wear, with
passion, my skin as I will wear yours.

I will see deep inside your eyes, myself
wrapped in tenderness as pain is gone,
I will feel the softly beat of your heart
timidly knocking on my heart its door,
when all you need is to come inside and
feel the end of wandering, you are home,
because you will never want to leave
you yourself will that door hold closed.

Mea culpa, mea culpa sinners will say,
but why we should feel guilty for love
not asked, not dreamed to even have
and that was waiting ahead on the road,
as we walked towards the end of life
how could then our beating hearts know
that we were made for each other and
the earlier choices we made, were wrong.

He made hearts with an handful of dust,
never put inside a "this you not should "
they were lifeless, cold and unmoving
until He, life to those hearts give a blow
and sent away to search for long years
until they could find around His world,
the one made to fit with each other, even
if it was, kindness of forbidden love.