The fire was lost.
And all hopes, and dreams,
to be rekindle in the mid future, was bask in red, ink in blood. The battle was lost, Love.
Regret and bitter.
And so I say this, Love. Im in love with you, before love becomes the love. Before sadness reignite our tears. Before the January wind pass our tongue, arguing what was ours, what was once we had,
I miss.
Bleeding was the last option.
Now, I choose. And in you, the memory buries deep, deep in me. what was once love, will ever be a box of tissue, soak,
with pictures, and your sadness.
I was a man.
In the corner I sit, the day you spark my life, my smile the authentic, resonates, under the floor of the street.
But the smile that I resonate, could not save you from the sorrow that hugs you in the shadow. I was a frog, the ugly, that needed help. And so I came back to this spot,
this hour, this moment,
returning to the same position where we f irst met, in the corner.
Loving my sorrow.
