Déjà Vu

A Curtal Sonnet

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My words in verse, my poem’s lines like ropes
on which I balance, love, I stand robust.
I walk, ignoring dangers, watching you
observe; you hold your breath, you doubt your hopes
and yet, you count my steps, and show your trust
as if you waived the past to start anew.
Inside you, everything that screams my name,
will keep on shouting what you always knew
and what I learnt rejecting other’s lust,
a spiralled truth, it’s always been the same
Déjà vu.