Sweetheart ... the owner of my heart ... i'm whispering to you ... with a passion's whispers ... and calling you ... within my heart ... from my so far place ... in the language as all lovers ... but ,... i'm not like those lovers ... because ... the feelings and the love ... that i hold inside ... no one get ... like what i feel about you ... and , how i be ... when it's the night ... when i hug my pillow ... between my arms ... to feel you as real ... with me ... until the sun rise ... to start my day ... with you ...
How does it feel like to float in a complete void, alone with an uncertainty of surviving and going back to where you used to live? I was talking about the Sputnik II, the famous satellite launched with the dog Laika aboard. The very scene also portrays the life here on land. Each day, I'm caving in my own realities, an impressive way of escaping. It has buried me in that idea of you existing on it. It is a badge to be given, a sigh each time you twist the **** on the door.
And there I am, a banquet of a montage of a violent delight, a beauty of the sea cascading the shore, it's in my veins, a rushing current of this mere event. I watched people applaud, how the glass clinks, and you, an array of sun, so immaculate, I can't look away.
I cannot bear losing it.
and we'll be a specks withering, it is a bittersweet love: