What kind of songs do you listen to? What kind of songs do stir the very human in your soul, deep down that dark and empty and quiet vessel, so fragile and delicate?
What kind of poems do you read? Kind of poems that no poet on earth with all the greatness and majesty and gracefulness and sweetness of tounge has ever recited, thought of, whispered or shouted, as to lover. . .or as to enemy.
What moves you? An old man on a street begging for some warmth, a young little boy who has lost his parents on a tragic accident, an old widow crying for the loss of her husband? What pinches your heart?
What views do your eyes see? Good or evil amidst the turmoil or humanity's everyday struggle? Love or hatred towards a lover who thinks of nothing but to make you happy, to please you, if he could, give you the moon and the stars like donuts and candies by the corner on the street?
What warms your heart? A bunch of flowers, hundred bucks a dozen. . .or a box of chocolates. . white, dark, with almond, or raisin, or mint, pure, with butter, or milk maybe? Or a warm hug after all the day's hustle and bustle, when you just want to sit down and cry, asking why life has to be this hard. . .has to be this tough?
What drives you crazy? A popular TV idol who sings like no one else, who could raise the hopes of thousands and millions of ladies about their own personal soon-to-come prince charming. .or the tall piles of papers on your desk waiting to be verified and validated, processed and released, with that incoming-outgoing document holder sitting on your table like a severed dragon's head ready to bite and burn anyone coming near it?
What makes you hate? What makes you love? What makes you laugh? What makes you cry?
I could have all the night and yet go on asking you my questions, asking you my Whys.
For as much as the blue cold moon of the night wants to touch the hot burning sun of day, so much more is my desire to know you...to touch you...if only I may.