These words have drained from this pencil ...
As we lay in the stillness I whisper to you: you are my night sky, don´t let the sun shine. You and your sweet everything make my stomach turn into spoiled butterflies.
And you know my darling that time doesn´t exist and our voices don´t need to fly through the air to be heard by us. But ... we don´t lay in the stillness any longer and the reality´s speed destabilizes us in every breath, every silence, in every me and every you.
We are not real.
We are not.
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Yo siempre imagino que tengo libélulas en lugar de mariposas en la panza, pues detesto a las mariposas.
ResponderEliminarAparte "dragonflies" es re lindo n.n