I have always trusted you despite the burnt flowers that I saw. We've eaten together in lonely parks with broken spoons and we've walked on the same path that had no excuse but to let us make a move. The hurricane of troubles and tsunami of dissatisfaction that tend to sweep away our allegiance will forever remain cursed. And any finger pointing at the soul that holds the truth will doubtlessly be broken for the fear of expression. Fake people will always be like dead horses, more like written off ferraris. No rerun needed to prove all I'm saying is pure victory, and when I wake with the sun in the morning, I hope my words will radiate with the rays in a prose that will make you understand that I still love and care. Tonight the moon fell between my feet and I thought maybe nature was cracking a joke. Hand on my chin then pondered! I pondered like in my brain wild flowers were sprouting, then something like a plague, but with a sensation of a neglected wise notion which flashed before my cerebrum and decoded itself as wisdom, then in a shimmering technique took captive of my thoughts about you, then transmuted every idea to a loving feeling ready to be expressed in a manner that will never run out of style just like champagne to a ******.