In the moment of the whisper brushed shoulders, we looked and kept moving passed. We seized the "What Ifs" as if the future was now. The paint marks on your face was no suprise, but when I imagined the fields of us counting stars I ran with the sun. There was no looking back on galaxies, as out sweaty palms were corrupt with sin.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
In the moment of the whisper brushed shoulders, we looked and kept moving passed. We seized the "What Ifs" as if the future was now. The paint marks on your face was no suprise, but when I imagined the fields of us counting stars I ran with the sun. There was no looking back on galaxies, as out sweaty palms were corrupt with sin.
In a time lap of years.
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