[14] - monday's child.

「 parasol girl. 」

'tis the damn season, ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ 02.05

you always loved that white springtime frock, the one i found in tokyo. we called it the parasol girl dress, because i reminded you of naoko from the wind rises.

 i remember how much you loved airplanes. you had so much photos of them in your phone and you'd excitedly show each one to me. i listened with the spirit of an eight-year-old who wanted to fly.

 we were on a flight south when i wrote out in my notes, 'what if i pursue being a pilot and you'd be a plane engineer?' the gleam in your eyes told me you thought it was a capital idea.

 yet here were now; i, a poet without her poem -- you, a philosopher without his thoughts.

 i have immortalised you. you are art, and i am an artist; i have painted out love on the lips of lovers and the books on their shelves. this love and this pain, my sunshine and your midnight rain, will be for evermore and always.