I was listening to random songs. The lyrics reminded me of the empty alley I never meandered on. Catching setting Sun, like it is a fireball and my hand an inflammable appendage.
However when Moon came it reminded me of you. How it creates high and low tides, waves in my heart which are inundated by emotions, emotions so dramatic like I am a boat stuck in a tempest. And the eye of this squall? It is you. *Song changed*
I am now thinking about old, vintage radio which I don't own and an American lifestyle which I don't follow. But the setting is mesmerising.We running hand in hand till you kiss my cheeks and stand on your knees and confess what you feel.
My imagination is painted and splattered with images and memories of us which never eventuated.
And you a gardener taking care of chrysanths . You will pluck it and water it.
Don't water the dead flowers they say.
But I will probably live for few seconds on your soft hands rather than a field without you.
However when Moon came it reminded me of you. How it creates high and low tides, waves in my heart which are inundated by emotions, emotions so dramatic like I am a boat stuck in a tempest. And the eye of this squall? It is you. *Song changed*
I am now thinking about old, vintage radio which I don't own and an American lifestyle which I don't follow. But the setting is mesmerising.We running hand in hand till you kiss my cheeks and stand on your knees and confess what you feel.
My imagination is painted and splattered with images and memories of us which never eventuated.
And you a gardener taking care of chrysanths . You will pluck it and water it.
Don't water the dead flowers they say.
But I will probably live for few seconds on your soft hands rather than a field without you.
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