I know it’s crazy to believe in silly things, But you look so very pure when you suffer from your addictions…

Just like the flowers, Who have forgotten autumn and winter, Oh my friend from past seven seasons, Have you forgotten me, Like the many names in your life? Or are you busy loving yourself, Trapped in your own enchantment are you?

A feeling that she is of spring making love, To the trees green and the doves, The same feeling of lying naked on the grass, And watch the rain falling from the stars. A feeling that she is that walks in and slips away, Like the sand of an hourglass. Oh her home the realm of feelings…

The words in my diaries, No longer preserve my youth, So alone in those paragraphs, So faceless in those photographs, These scarlet lines on my palms, Are as aimless as my life…

And you know you are not the first, She gave her heart. But does that even matter? How you wish you would be the last, To stay forever in her arms, Or die waiting for that moment…