July 30, 2013
I'm writing like someone would probably waiting for my news.
Hoping to see "I'm doing good" and they'll sigh in relieve.
That they're afraid what if one day i stop addressing my existence toward my only Blog they could reach.
Questioning Earth to me if i am still processing oxygen and carbon dioxide. (breathing)
It would be even funny if people surprisingly notice that i am gone or something.
For the kind of person who people would forget in a blink of an eye, all of the above seems
only like a broken tape inside your lobus frontal.
Each time the fireworks bloom, each of my brain cells die in a slow motion.
My vision would heal once again, to look at your eyes.
so i would know what colors are them. That i didn't seem to notice in the first place.
I would touch you once again, with my full of bruises hands
To trails down your veins, that destined to your heart, where your life beats.
To make sure you only breath for everything nice in this world.
Not letting yourself to feel dismay.
