If the words are memories of love, so I write to remind the love in me. Because poetry is an affection on the other side, a kindness saved in lover’s eyes. And if it is not the poet the translator of silences and poetry a collection of possibilities, who am I? I am a woman living in each of my lines, even if they never find me; and reveal me by all my words, even if every one of them I cannot be revealed; because I live in a kingdom of my knowledge it lends itself to confess what it is, even if I miss it in what remains: the infinite. Poetry lives behind the eyes, and that truly touches us when we know to be the letters only its reflection … ❤