When my eyes are windows with a flowing river from them,
I pretend to be OK.
It's a milky way of denial.
Memories are painful burdens,
when you use them as a plaything of your sadness.
I feel like everyone has died
And there is this heavy rain,
leaving me vulnerable,
With the thought of your ocean eyes, forever.
1405/03/20 - Wednesday - June 10, 2026 - 07 : 40 : 50 AM
