on your chest

If they sell the world at a glance, I will stop buying heaven just because of your breasts.

There is the beginning of peace in the world, where the thousand-year fatigue of men melts silently like snow on the sun.

Your breasts are not made of flesh, they are of shelter, two dawns that take my displaced nights to the bright embrace of love.

Whenever I put my head on that paradise, time stopped moving, and my heart, like a dove released from a cage, wrote your name on the silent sky of the world.

If one day death knocks on the door of my house, before I close my eyes to the world, I have no wish except that the last beat of my heart falls into an eternal sleep under the shelter of your breasts.

Because love is immortalized sometimes not in words but between two heartbeats of the beloved.