
You have lived.The messages. They whirled you in the four winds. And them. Stuck there. In the lap. In passion. A unit of measurement. It devides the lovers. The kisses that unnecessarily were taken in a another mouth. The moment. You meet complicit eyes that cumber on yours. Without sound. Only the shortness deceived by thirst.
Σκέψεις. Δημιουργούν παρέλαση λέξεων. Ζευγαρώνουν εικόνα αυτές.
Επετειακή επανάληψη. Χαρίζει κάθε εβδομάδα. Κίνητρο που δεν ξεθωριάζει.