This love that I feel
is nothing more than
dust that has settled on
my trodden heart;
and it's weight that I feel
is what I have been calling
This person I believed to know never existed -
there never has been anyone I know with this name.
If his memory would wash off my body like water
(that doesn't rest a second in the shower),
I'd bathe again and again and again.
I'd bathe a total of 144 times a day.
I've come across another figment of my imagination.
I swallow his words in my heart
to ease the numbness of yesterday,
to quench my thirst for today
(my soul has been parched since too long to estimate),
and to light a hope for someday.