Another one I am alone without delay.

The reflection from the window is what keeps American state company.

I see nearly everything from here. But principally I watch the sunrise.

Set. Then love again:its montonous, cyclic nature, the last word crime of passion.

If solely it understood what it will, maybe then it'll leave and ne'er return.

You sit infront of the windows. undress for the creeping sun, wherever the rays area unit 1,000,000 feathery arrows passing through your skin contrasted by the lucnet sky you become a drizzle rain scattering your freckles that assist to be connected.

You sit and watch the trees sway with the cold wind their weak bodies bowing back and forth between you and also the attenuation line of the horizon that looks shut enough to trace it all the means to the top of the planet.

We have become therefore familiar with the enjoyment the times bring That we've got formed the art of bystanding, the slow art of holding tight to our addictions we have become every other's sun.

our arms became love letters that wrap around our hearts whispering their thoughts, They have conversations infront of gods.