If you breathe beneath my roots
I may lose a fruit off my branches...

I find comfort in torn shoes,
more than I do when...

Numb, I last still, standing above
inflamed prints that your steps...

Sitting opposite to a blue wooden window,
far enough so that breeze won't sneak on me...

Never seen beauty as such that
I catch flowing with the fragrance of...

A thousand words fail me,
unable to overcome the agony...

I was carried away
with a flush of emotions...

What else would a metaphor
do, except for adding a color...

No figure to
your drawings...

Alas, it's sadness
which within I sail...

I said everything is wrong
and she asked me to write about it...

You make me irrelevant -
out of balance...