all ego among the flowers
But it was just the rain coming
She decided then to send it all to hell:
the good night was a greeting, the good morning a farewell.
Tall, wide, and deep as far as my imagination can go.
He just wished he could have then, when it was her hair slipping through his fingers, the same notion that nothing is forever, and that at some point his hands would be dry and empty again.
Unfinished lives #22
He was affraid of lows
Yeah, once more you managed to bend logic.
I got lost in the cloudless sky,
in the delicate lines of a winter afternoon.
The night comes soon
and I look at the stars,
willing to be lost forever.