Maybe I'm crazy but,
I can never replace anyone.
Because everyone is made in such beautiful small details.

Like, I remember the night makes your skin glow.
Or you always smell of the color yellow, and everything makes me think of tomorrow.
How your eyes sparkle brightly as if stars are inside them.

It's probably the way your hand feels,
when I hold it it's like the river streams to your palm.
Or the start of your smile forms a contentment where I feel that,
I can be saved.

Little things.
each of them, beauty exists.

"Be bold instead of broken."

Piece by piece
I created my Heaven.

Each time you entered;
took something from my garden.

Keep coming and keep going,
in an endless loop.

Rotting everything,
whatever comes to your way,

STOP this SCARIFICE...!
A voice SHOUTED from inside.

Then she met the sun rising above the sky
superior to its servants, for 'tis the bright light
giving shelter to trees and flowers —
her morning were as rough as the dried sunflowers.

She ne'er-do-well at nights that seem to haunt her every time the moon arises from below —
the moon whom she hates when it strikes at six o'clock and the sun sets at five o'clock, she never gets the time to smile.

Tomorrow with her is never home.
A night with her could be considered as the curse.
From o'er the horizon, she looks up above, and scream, “Even songs I love I could not hear!”
Her little hymn and tones turned into lulla-byes —
a lullaby to good-bye.

“Tis the time to go home,"  she said, but what if night ne'er sets down and tomorrows turned ashes and good-byes?

When will she go home?