Days getting longer around here, days getting shorter up there. Summer always comes and winter always goes. Would you, by chance, think that it's sad or fortuitous? Everyone's got a different skin to tell it. What my skin that enlaces me tenderly knows is that those black, rounded, coal colored eyes are branded in my memory. They cry a sad and endeavoring song which reaches out and catches only my little right hand finger. The sea, earth and air part us. Are they selfish? Or is it really time who controls our distances and destinies? I'd open a loop hole in time and travel to a moment where nothing else would matter: solely my chest pressing against yours. Sadness drained out of our eyes. Pure bliss filling them up like a moonshine tide. I'd also try creating one more sight: apart from the one I see reality with, one for seeing only you. I would manipulate the second sight just to feel a little closer every time this abyss opens in the shelves of my core. Intertwined in madness and reality, I would sail away to the shores of the sea that is my conscience, bound for freedom.