My dreams aren’t made of anything really. Maybe I could place Television sets all around me.
Use the length of these stories and make you a paper plane
I asked her to stay, I even put my hands on her knees.
Slow waltzed to her mind.
Then, I asked her to stay once more.
7th floor windows waned backed at me. Let’s fall asleep. Come here and sit beside me. I’d really like that.
You know the conical angles that a street lamp gives out. The one that strangely remind me of you and your strangeness. I’ll get used to her detail.
I’ll get used to you too.
I’ll even say goodbye and meet you the very next day.
And your name will be a murmur
Just like my own.