A quiet place, a lonely set, hard to forget, and the colors are warm with grace. Seated near the window where the waves rock, I wait for you, for one day to talk.
You. It is you.
It is here, gliding a hand across mine, your presence. It is here, tasting your whiskey remnants with a kiss, your essence.
A quiet place, a lonely set, wondering if we ever met, waiting for the pain to erase. Scenarios about us that never happened, more than I have ever imagined.
You. It was always you.
I would go back to you, even in reincarnation. In the end, it is a figment of my lone imagination.
