Like wet cement carrying an impression;
my footprints still linger from...
Living young and dying free
That's what it's like to be me...
I can't erase the
raised by women alone stain...
Love
my new...
My heart
not so stupid anymore...
For the final time I will steal
one last sip of your bitter cup...
I may wear a yellow dress
to laugh at the mad waves...
Carefree life they lead with a smile
Hiding mischievous thought in their eyes...
Come again, be a sight I desire wrapped in
a further unforeseen summer...
I'm immersed by my own flow,
set within the blond view...
Her mind-
a collection...
---
i don't think the soul lives in our eyes...