Friday, September 9, 2011

(A)Symmetrical Miscalculation.

Every last encounter is not to be concerned, it is only but a consequence.

Every tick has its span magnified, as I roamed across the air of bloom.


I just couldn't do it, I tried so hard, but I just couldn't do it.










An intersection.

There wasn't any better reason to explain the passiveness,


but what ran to me was raw,

unintentional, and unadorned.

I was glad that we could meet again.





It had grown inside of me.



p.s. : I tried to look into your eyes and smile.

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