lam.also.can.blog

The calculation of your vocabulary seldom exceed the hours of daylight, when what is more important to you are your hands that map the shapes into your eyes. Your certainty of a pictured smile puts some clothes on my shame, the voice of your imagination makes me blind sometimes. The island you made from crayons and lemonade, the little things the ear cannot tape, the bedside stories on lazy Mondays. Such notes you unfold without the tones of any color, has been just an illusion you’ve replaced with the vicious view of reality. I can’t contain simple feelings that falls out of place, like the easiness of your ways. Without eyes, you levitate with what you’ve drawn inside your head but I’m sorry darling, the world is not any easier than what you’ve interpreted it. Being sightless calls for another jury upon where I have to stand to guide you into civilization. Being optimistic would only hurt everything else in your cerebral album.

I bought some shoes,
Some shoes for you,
Don’t ask how much it costs.

I came across,
As the handsome face,
But this gorgeousness is just a talent.

We spoke of words,
Twirling round a comet,
The words you could cover under the blanket.

Because you trust me,
Telephoning the demon,
With your clothes on, You asked for marriage.

You had the radio,
Your palm across my mouth,
You said that you could not be any happier.

A superficial change,
An addiction to math,
The addition would compensate the sunlight.

It’s good to know,
When to let go,
Because you panicked.

You’re pathetic.
But I won’t tell you that,
No, not on your juror’s diction.

It will be a fact;
I’m sharing up with love.
It’s the walk along your corridor when your window’s not open.