My heart would fold so quickly, in a rush, falling off of ledges when I could remember all the things you said to me. It was the first time I learned to read your lips for gestures by the way they moved. A period, a comma, a mark, a scar, the why's and the suffering it weighs.
But it would fold so easily, the heart I longed for swishing in the wind, stealing kisses in the sky and letters of forbidden romance all over the city. The same scene, the same garden, the same promises and stars fading away in order to live through a thousand light-years. Yet in the meaning of something, I get to learn how to control the reading gestures you unconsciously make when I pass by.
Even though it is the same as my movement, I fled in order to live the few years I have here, because the earth evolves so quickly, in rush, in remembrance, in light. And I get to go back to the music of my own rhythm, while my eyes are closed and I sing two notes of sonata.
Even when you tell me a thing or so, I get to wipe the longing raindrops from both my eyes. As if a waterfall had been longing to go out. At the very least, I got to write even a single word, which I wish you could hear. Maybe the wind will deliver me to you.
it feels good to fall in love, sometimes.
