Words are some kind of door or rather handles too often used.The sternocleidomastoid, for example, every doctor knows it. Every human has it. Especially you. But not even yours is special.The rain and the pillow have felt it, the sea ​​and the wind, and I do not want to think about what and who else have or I might rip mine out. They saw so they know. It can no longer be mine

I'd become an explorer just to find a month on the sky of your skin. I'd call it Iona from love and let it float towards Cancer. The constellation, that is.

"you" is an oily knob.I'm afraid not to grab you incorrectly.I am afraid not to use it somehow wrongfully and you wouldn't answer when I call after you. like in tyoulip, for example.

I uselessly planted so many stems. They did nothing but grow beautifully but can't compare to you. They can't place me on my thoughts and won't ever say if they think of me. You meet at least one of the two conditions.

One day I will grow tall and leafy and then I shall write an alphabet of us and us only.

how we got lost and why we should do it again

If this should be good bye, then let it be so

If that was the end, then let it burn down to its roots

If we shall part, can you swear on its eternity?

If we are tied together, how far can you run in the opposite direction?

How many wounds can one skin carry before it falls off?

How many times to be reborn, to escape this pattern?

You'd be an intricate tweed if I were Chanel.

let's get lost- evolution. slow but tiresomely playful

I am yet to become more than just skin
But you're one of the few tar freckles the world has seen.

One day I might decorate someone's fireplace;
Dripping liberated from my memory's case
You shall melt again

Whirlpools in the middle of the desert

The moist, salty air coming from above the sea of pasts

Carrying the bodies of silenced fireflies

Like blankets covering the cold of the stars' beds.