childhoods are forgotten mere bonds simply left to rot bewildered and betrothed to the very idea of a more golden sun and glistening moon but not all the planets in the solar system are close and are in fact very far away
words are to mean nothing nothing left with the wind blown away good bye! adieu! I shall miss my friend!
and where is the blossom whom I met so long ago on Mars on Jupiter the promiscuity of proximity reminiscing within the shallow walls of the cave that drips drips drips to the past
and history becomes bloated with subjectivity and a sepia undertone so how can we see what went wrong? how can we learn the implications of each movement made by our lips fingers each deep breath that coincides with the galaxy underneath a waning moon