under the bamboo of the forest
meeting you while the leaves scraped quietly
spinning the cobwebs
praising the words of the devil
creaming me
always wondering in the light of the candle
if I were born yesterday
spite creeps it away
it's always dark
murmurs of wonder
persistent heaviness of the lids
we broke the hourglass
then there are my memories of the rain
––always eternal––
––everlasting––
––grieve––