It's A Gift Poem by Anahit Arustamyan

IT'S A GIFT
It's a gift that my dreams aren't dead. Their hot lips are still kissing my sunset. Don't blame me for being mad! This roaming breeze hasn't left my head. It's a gift that your mail is my nest. It's a gift that I'm still alert. Self deception is a pillow on a bed. It's so soft like a silky hat. Who are you in this world's net? Who am I in my heart's hand? Don't blame me for being mad! It's a gift that my dreams aren't dead.