To love with love

I miss you love. I miss being ordinarily stupid. I miss those random pinks and reds and blues. Will you find me again to stay forever? Why do I need to still search you instead? Am i waiting? Am i lost?


Be a Baby

Life probes us consistently even without knowing, making mild or wild impressions on our skin as if on sand. "Mild or wild" sounds nice, touches deep. Change is not easy, growing up is is not easy, it never will be. Ah, what do we do?


Isn't it comforting to keep you tied to fantasies? You didn't break up, his beloved grandpa's still alive, she didn't lose her job? Wouldn't it be much easier? Wouldn't it be much satisfying?

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