I held your hands through an art exhibition and the evening came as there was darkness in my creation.
I remember you had a smell like old home but babe; your straps were blocking my nose from the conclusions of your tits.
This is a night and that was also a night,
both times there was me and you were only once…but now I know the melancholia of loving an unemployed poet,
and the romanticism in walking down the unknown streets with nothing but pure daydreams.
I guess there won’t be many lines about us…but the ones written by me will be bloody genius.
The bones are cracking and those lanes where we walked with the shadows of night leaves…
I am closing my eyes and you are by my side with your bare back and a flesh of swift wave to get clear through the sleepless night…
Infinite… infinite… infinite.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Google.

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