i don't know if i just leave the flowers here when you only exist now in my dreams. maybe i'm just imagining things when you told me that i'll stay here with you in silence. when in fact your actions went on the other route.
and now I'm chasing for your ghost and crying over with the memories of your silent voice.
is this even necessary to always feel this morning blues when i still felt the lingering drowsiness from the grave night shift i spent thinking of you while you are in someone else's blue?
YOU ARE READING
ain't first, ain't last
Şiirto be one's saturn. [old poetry collection for someone we could never have]
