By the lonely lanes, I walk; looking up at the clouds... as my eyes follow the flying doves and stop at a bunch of flowers, those lightly scented ones... people call them hanging with spirits... may be that's why they whisper about you into my ears...they know how I feel about you, but I had never told anyone.
Sometimes, like the scent hanging in mid air... our love hangs in spaces between... the end of which is untied....fluttering free . Will you hold the other end, I doubt.
Without letting you out of my thoughts, am going afar.....closing all doors...which open towards you. So that when you wake up, you have no trace of me and my dying desire to love....you!
Image: www.hollywoodreporter.com
(When Marnie was there)
