Falling...Swallowing me, calling me, dazzling me, attracting me—those are what high, distant places can do to me. I try to lie down on this high cliff, head dangling at the edge, and my heart starts pounding as if it wants to escape from my rib cage—its prison—until the skin on the left part of my chest is all torn apart. Then, after letting my eyes close slowly and be at rest, after letting my hair flow gently on the breeze, after letting my ears hear all the sounds clearly, after letting my body feel each and every thing deliberately, I'll fall asleep, knowing you are there ready to catch me in this high cliff.We are at the edge of the earth
floating.Mornings are not always nice but the sun always is; each ray is filling me in. Evenings are beautiful, while the moon leaves a mark that no one but I can see. They say lights are made for people who can't see well, however, for me, it is made for you—their tiny part
Life...a chain cycle of blooming and dying fruit.
Romantic Distaste I'm always thinking that the sky stays the same, day and night, colors vary but the looks don't. Then, I stop dreaming that the color of the sky is blue when I got lost in the middle of somewhere from where her heart used to be. She loves telling me what I wanted to hear; I listen to it everyday as if it was the music in a melodramatic theater. The beat is gone: I find myself in this place, miles from nowhere frighten. The breathtaking sway pattern of a pendulum and its color of gold and silver encompass the exquisite pattern of black and white roses stained by time, which I refer to as my luscious beauty. I adore and admire those. It reminds me of the time when my day begins with the eager urge of drowning myself with indulgence of her thought while smelling the anemones being dispersed everywhere; she's my pendulum. Roses and sunflowers, the