I have written for a hundred million about a heartbreak,
Few might sacrifice lot of efforts not to let the paper scattered,
And some are raw.
But I got tired writing them then.

Not everyone understand the violence it took to become this gentle,
The sun, the moon, and the stars also your sad eyes understand,
That I don't need forever to wait until we can dancing and singing on the moon.

A windy afternoon, and since then, you became the kind of ache I don't mind at all.
And only if I could cut you open,
Perhaps there's a million of tiny little poetry that will fly away,
Dancing on the wind like a butterflies.
Kissing the sun, scorching through the sky.

I may have accidentally never be able to stop loving you,
You are a living celestial fallen star of the universe,
The dust of eternity,
A correctly placed within the constellation.
And for that, I love you.