Rule of the writer

"Her cheeks turned red"
is an abomination
in internal focalization

Inside narrator's head
the face is not seen
Red can only be felt
as an hotness or itch
in the lavish silence
after I love you

I accept that in stories
In life it might be true
for rational people
but not for me

Cameras are everywhere
and tiny observers
with big eyes and ears
tell me that I am seen
Even in New Zeeland
people are laughing
before the uttering of love

During the daily wait
on hospitals' blue chair
I tell you: I really love
I mean I kind of like
that maple tree outside