I view the things that surround me
Like the scenes in a movie

When the scent of the rain seems flawless
If I had a white hot chocolate to sip

Or as I let the soft sheets hug me
and realize that it has been tainted
by my old perfume

Maybe an indie song can complete it
To help my thoughts surpass
to what the universe has yet to reach

Would you tell me
What is yet to reach?
Is it also yet to miss?

The sun quickly goes hazy,
Leaving silhouettes of naivete

All the melodies that stirred the tree's being,
Never left its veins; still creeping

Summer whispers stories to the other parts of the dozen,
Dauntless tales beginning to finally ripen

One has savored the flame from the lips of a lad,
While the other, on one's own, the mountains of the land



The dove witnessed all of these,
and is now demeaned of herself
For she only thirsted for a burgeon of love,
however, devoured the liquid of despair