Sometimes, Saturdays are too quiet silence swallows thoughts about papers and parties woes and worries about exams and events and leaves too much room for your words that reverberate in my skull
Would you stare at me If I were a star in the night sky Would you feel me If I were the wind Would you pick me If I were a rose Would you touch me If I were snow Would you lean on me If I were a wall Would you chase me If I were a butterfly