Blue

I want to be a love poem
you find in your purse
and stop to read,
carefully folding it back,
afraid of tearing it
because of the wore fold line,
after you finsh;
to stop to unfold it
and read it again
and again.

I want so much,
I’m breathless.
So breathless,
I turn blue.
Put your lips on mine,
and I will come to life.