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The truth on a white page.
This song is life, everything.
It is the night and the fog, the red of autumn, the buildings that blue and sweetly ascend to the sky.
Indigo, passion, intoxication.
The song and the cry.
It is the trails of cars on the dark street, it is the poetry of the ring road.
She.
It is the rumpled covers of that bed, it is the tachycardia in the middle of sleep.
The heartbeat of feeling.
It is the time of memory, a gentle sigh, eyelashes in the eye.
It is the cold in the sun, nostalgia and purity, warm love. Endless.
For you who know it.
Yours.
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