I see you
most days...
I have not repeated myself as much as before...
When I wrote, the repetition seemed to repeat...
Darkness like mirrors
echoes all our intentions...
Around three in the morning
your soul was still fluttering...
As soft as smoke, the fire came
trailing through the daffodils...
Treat me like the trash,
crush me up into a powder...
She found her true face
a mask amongst so many...
You know guys,
I have to be honest with you all again...
can you calm the cold winds that howl
your name in the dark of night – when...
Tonight,
on my way back to Paris...
My happiness is futile, which appears
like the ray of sun in frigid climate...
Ashes all around the air,
bound to this cold world...