It is not over, but the evening clouds
in sweeter shades of blood
make it bearable to have you not here.
Where you are, is the same light,
maybe you are watching
the same clouds, thinking of me.
Do you see how the face of that king
changes into the map of France now
and back to a face with no name.
There is no chance, how could we be together,
but we are together, even apart.
See how we move on like changing clouds
in denial of our hearts. In sweet colours.