It's not even romantic But I'm going to write a poem of every boy I met.Not romantic, It's not that I had met a lot of men.
On that morning you played ukulele, I sang along with the lyrics Creep, Blur,anything
The morning light shined through your squinted eyes I can still see the dust swirling, dancing in front of the sun-bathed face of yours. Naive,friendly,happily We were singing to each other The other two are non-existence.
You are so warm, comfortable to be around with A Belarusian boy ,aspiring to speak good Chinese. You paint, you cooked and made desserts Always at ease at hitchhiking through Kazakhstan and China
I felt that you secretly want to try to escape from what you had from Belarus to Czech, then to this mysterious Eastern world, a bit communist. And then to Taiwan.
This is for you Ilya, a friend for only a day and night. You're too delicate for me to handle as you have skin like milk and heart of seven seas Smile like a 5 year old in a swing.