Captain Hook, Poem by Maria Mitea

I know, you've got scars that can be seen with an open eye,
and yet, when I look at your long curls like stalactites, I wonder
why don't you tell me more, I know for sure, you'll have fun seeing my relatives,
hope the numbness in your right hand is gone,
it's one thing when peter pan cuts your left, and quite another
when you die with the sword în your right,

are there eyes bluer than the sky to see through the waves, to see
through the salt of the sea and your body, when I bite your nails, devotee,
when my lips cover your lips, silently, the only way to survive,

but if your right hand dies how will you carry your cross,
how are you going to gather yourself in one point when
the pinky/ring fingers sit nicely in the middle of the palm like yin/yang,
forget-me-nots

Note: Mr. Hook, if you really want something the desire must be greater than the column of infinity or
the tip of the nose