Sunday, March 15, 2015

等着你回来

For the song of the deadly couldn't have you called



the space kept warm for your return

the faded fragrance of that handmade soap left on the table

replaced by a shorter span of sizzled onions

as they filled and travelled -


an illusion

the juxtaposed reality is that our coexistence collide

only in certain circumstances

and that we will never cross the path with a specific intention





I am capable to put up a mock run

to have you loved with open arms

for the sake of reinforcement

a mechanism to immunity

when it could be much convenient

to see you rise and fall, predictably




I can sit here all day

to run my desired reality

and the void

in parallel planes

as I witness the heart wither




it shall take the cycle of course

until one day, when we decide to evolve