2018

Silver slivers of an other world. Golden echoes of a past long gone. It is as if the warming summer rain never ceased to coat our skins. It is as if the most important part of you lives inside my pulsing veins. Gray clouds repeating your whispered words. White lies, hidden in every new song. It is as if your home is in my mind. But my mind is vacant and my home disappeared. Iridescent pictures of the end of an affair: I vividly recall the way you needly whispered

“Are you there?”

I remember fragments of our story; they are embedded in a promise I made before you were real.