I see faces and flowers on loose pages— it smiles at me from a crumpled paper, addressed to the fire, its embers were keeping it ablaze.
How happy it was to paint the room blue in the middle of summer, dancing through the sound of the creaks under my footsteps— everything is just right.
How treacherous it was, a wistful memory they were remnants of unsettled stories and unforgiven departures; I stood on a shipwreck where everything is a lost. the uncertainty would be tall and I am more will for the fall, are these things crosses your mind? I wouldn't bear crossing out your name.
This is how we paint room blue; creeping on the cracks of the floor, memorizing your gaits as I follow your traces.
i decided to re-write this one. it was published four years ago, and time really changes my perception to this.
A memory abound in the people here Leaving behind a trace of their fears Don’t mark me if you plan to leave too soon And see me only when my plants are in bloom A thousand beings, in my life Staining me with tears and strife Don’t take a main part of my home If soon you’ll go back to roam