If my body was altered by a muted moment,
and my existence was reformed to fit the landscape,
.
the cracks of your absence would be carved on my crust like the scars on the old man’s face,
my memories would be wrapped in precious solitary , hanging down like little light strings,
.
and my existence was reformed to fit the landscape,
.
the cracks of your absence would be carved on my crust like the scars on the old man’s face,
my memories would be wrapped in precious solitary , hanging down like little light strings,
.
and if you follow your steps outside your own shell, you will find me standing under the blue light,embracing the echo of your unspoken words.
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