One day I'll have left enough traces of myself In this world.
I'll have stained one thousand red wine glasses With carmine.
I'll have laughed so much that my breath Lays bare on every window.
I'll have painted bathroom tiles with Stray strands. And I'll have let fresh linen Lap up sweet perfume. Loved so much that my lips Ache.
I'll have carved myself a hole in this Mud (big enough for a village), And I'll have screamed so loud That the wind feels like a whisper.
One day my face will be like paper - Traced with graphite wrinkles. But I want to leave so much of myself On this earth That the rain won't be able to wash me away.