Counting stars till I fall asleep.
We used cigarette filters to sift through our conversations and find Truth.
There was Philosophy and Nonsense and Unsaid;
but apart from that, the lines on our palms stayed hollow.
There was Philosophy and Nonsense and Unsaid;
but apart from that, the lines on our palms stayed hollow.
Soft spoken words, melancholy everywhere!
Much later, all I could think of was his smell; the scent of his washing powder, his ironed white shirts, suffocating me so I can't breathe or talk or taste or feel.
It's confusing. It’s crazy!
You think you've gone past the invisible line and moved onto another long and distant road. But one two-minute conversation is all it takes, really.
It's all just a twisted puzzle that doesn’t look right, just feels right; even when it's still in pieces.
And I thought I'd made such a progress!
Sailed away in my ship (just a boat really) and then suddenly in the middle of the ocean, that laps up invitingly… i just know, that even the watery graves couldn’t drown me.
The me that, has him!
The me that, has him!
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