Ephemeral
- Reads 2,471
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- Parts 8
~ON HOLD~
Warm breeze of autumn blown over me as I was laying flat on soft grasses, stack of papers in front of me. I poured ink onto them, knitting and weaving letters together, building lines after lines. It is magical how my hands never fail to write the perfect phrases about him, and we, even after all these years. All the moments of us, our happiness and grief, satisfaction and cravings were mixed with every drop of the ink, concocting the enthralling meaning of our love in joint. It is a poetry I never know the ending, just letting the words flow until they creates an eternal creation of our ephemeral life.
A poetry of we, and our love. Me and Harry.
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