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There is another thing that the sky is covering up to, parallels are invisible strings that connect us.

You are a myth that the muses talk about,
they tell me how far the stars
that I wouldn't reach you
and how I wander my hands on my brokenness.
It was the traces of how beautiful the blue in your eyes
and the memories of red lanterns
lighting up our way home,
I feel the terror of we might forget
the sound of the eerie cold night.

Parallels are constellations in the skies as if we are remnants of history,
Each night we wished we exist.
I know, there is no place for a fickle people like me
who painted their thorns beautifully to feel the comfort of no turning back.

And the only thing I remember is the wild wood where I tracing each constellations and searching for your footsteps.
My nights have never been so fragile
until my words traces my heart
and tears filled up its meaning,
this is how a little shipwreck
can sink me.

I hope you know  
how much I wanted to tell you
how beautiful the stars
as you are.

How I attach you on every story I know about the sea
and how much light you fill in me, I couldn't bear to lose it.

My words will always find you
and will lingers in me
you have always been a part of it.
I've been crying on "Reaching out" so I made a little words on it.
His eyes are gleaming
as he glistens from afar,
How beautiful it is to have an
Aphrodite like appearance,
I wonder how it would be like
to fell in rabbit hole.

Why it felt like second hand
though we waltzed on a shipwreck
I lost on his footsteps as I tighten the grip on his hands.
I watched the stardust fall from his eyelash,
dreams do come true
as I fall for that hope.
There's still a part of you that lingers in me; a myth I haunt  and the ghost of every story I make.  

The traces of my brokenness
are the lure of lullabies
As I am chasing shadows on the crowd
they're coming after you under the moonlight.

What was the best thing for being a sunshine if you are a star that night can only have?
~
connected particles settling

as evidence

of the blissful graze

the brush with chemistry

the aftersome

and there the flashover

reframing time

by the warm places

one isolated touch sends you to

~
I followed the vestiges of your footnotes,
everything is a chrysalis of memories and forgetting.

It was you,
who unfolds a life halfway through my existence, I wish I wasn't there in your forgetting.
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