when i miss you, i reread wn and i feel like i can feel your heart against my cheek, like during those eternal hugs in the afternoons when once again i take refuge in your home to forget everything around me. when i reread wn, the tears fly away by themselves, without my being able to hold them back, like swarms of birds migrating to more welcoming lands for the winter. when the tears fly away by themselves, i say to myself that i am so lucky, to know you, to be fully part of your life, to build myself with you. that i am so lucky to feel so much for a person who gives and deserves so much. and then when i hear these few notes i think of you, of your lips against mine, of our bodies with irregular breaths, the anguish or the butterflies, who can decide? and then your words, and then the softness of your hands, and then, and then. and then the butterflies by the thousands in the hollow of my being, and then the drops of rain by the tens through the window, and then an autumn rhyme while we would walk under the leaves scorched by the weather. and then your fingers entwining mine, and then your smile lighting up my every dream, and then the silliness floating in the air. and then you, and then me, us. us, tears and cracked laughter, memories by the hundreds and broken jokes. a long time ago, i wrote a text. in it i said; 《 will you play the muse, while i play the artist? 》
then say, will you continue to embrace my heart, the time i take care of yours?