Her eyes were dipped into the ocean and blessed by the moon.
At least, that's what I remembered of her.
I used to dream of her every night as a kid after she had left.
The girl next door.
My mother always told me that it was my imaginary friend. But she had been real.
The girl next door.
The dreams lessened when I became a teenager. My mind was complete of comics, school, sports, and girls back then.
Lately, the dreams have returned. 20 years later.
My dear Cerise.
The last time I saw your eyes, they were stroked open in panic.
Till you were ripped away from me.
Was I the reason you had left?
