I’ll drown in this naivety, but I’ll suffocate happily.
With your hand keeping me under, but your hand, touching me.

When the muse has been amusing, and the artist runs out of ink.

A glow from my pocket, 
A second of your time.
For a second, 
That second was mine. 

But it keeps believing.
It’s ok, it’s alright.
A few words can slip out again — just for tonight.