And the wind had come and gone, and still a frail figure waved his fingers in the twilight. He was me and we were only waiting for you to wake, only wading through a tide pool of polarity. But wouldn’t the rains now blow? I’m not sure love - I don’t know. Now on knees, what good would a spade or a speech do? Too much had solidified around us, our molecules molded around our mouths - breathless. Never knowing, as for not showing, that the deep-deep down was never ending. I’d have to stop pretending soon, so they said, so they say. Although the light would bully back the black at this or any moments notice, I caught the constellations with an eye, with the other, and wondered why I bothered to count and calculate; skipping the ones I did not know and/or believe in. But that was my sin. I knew exactly where the waves were crashing and I allowed them to go unseen.
FNP
