On nights like this, he used to hold my hand while I hold him in my heart, but tonight_ the sky is full of stars and my heart is meshed with scars. / shattered like shards of a broken crystal, the relic of his breath in my mouth now tastes like my tears_ sour and bitter / I am not a map but I knew every road that led to his heart / I wonder how I lost it_ the path that leads to him /now I wander from ππ°π³π―π°_ where the flames of the sun-scorched and stung me, to ππ’π³π’π£π’_ where the strong cold froze me even with his old black coat on me, searching every poster of obituaries for his image, stalking every silhouette for his shadow and perceiving the scents of every flower for his aura that still seems very much alive in his black coat. / I re-read his letters and wonder why we have so much distance between us now. I know I am nothing but dry in his heart and not the two full seasons of the year / but he was the moon that used to watch me, how come all he does now is spit fire on me?
