I'm not interested in small talk
I want to listen to your childhood memories
the day when your father taught you how to ride a bike
when your mother read you a fancy fairy tale before bed
when you were so happy because your parents complimented your drawings
eventhough they were bad
when you sat on your mom's lap in the evening of spring
as waiting for your dad to get home from work
when you blew a candle on your 8th birthday
I want to hear your voice
and see your crinkles on your beautiful eyes
as you laugh uncontrolably like a little kid.

In the dark evening
she was sitting in the front porch
with her legs crossed.

No one was there but a cup of tea that always been there for her
the tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

Just like the petals, snowflakes, and eyelids.
they will eventually fall.

Let me watch you in a room
sitting on the wooden chair
holding your acoustic guitar
singing your favorite songs
from your favorite band
with your legs crossed
and your eyes closed
and a mug filled with hot coffee
placed next you.

he was the heaviest rain
to wipe the sadness off of me
the brightest star
that shine through the darkest part of me
the warmest air
to stop me from shivering
and the longest path
I would go through to find the right answer.

you are the reason
I scratch my purple
inked pen
against white paper
when
im alone
with my thoughts