surprising to my ears to speak of stroking you owe me, as if it were a matter of debt. I'm about to correct you and tell you it's better than you refer to them as touching that you gave me, and undo, once and for all the loop you intend to hold to my mind.
Those gestures were swept away by the wind, or maybe it was my own sighs of your absence that they took too far. No matter now, because for too long, I forget whether large or small, that I forgot to yearn.
And now you come to me like the ghosts of the past without realizing that things swept away by rain, and it has been raining since you left.
I brought it Whispers
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