I ran endways.
The days are now retrograding. I walk backwards to retrieve a route within your orbit, not to be apart, not to be kept away all over again. You keep your own aureole but I carry the rainbow that keeps it whole.
“When was the last time you discover, that you must learn to lose before you know how to keep things safer?”
“Not after the recent days, and not again.”
Jamais vu. The overflowing words coming out from my mouth, devastation all over your vague look, home straying apart, and on, and on; all the scenes I refuse to remember;
I could’ve been encouraging you to grow taller. You could’ve been arising and unstoppable. The butterflies would’ve been here withal, tingling and alive.