Past lives

Emma, it was 2020. You get on the Watford train, platform one to four I don't even know when it was, the track was rapidly receding, gone The desire to have you be known and close to you in the car, maybe there, Your anarchic being hesitatingly collapsed into my soul and into my mind. Two dry flowers, only the past, Welsh Harp's imprint, imagination in me, it's home Life says you're blooming, and that makes me happy. I love you and get a lot of honor. What awaits me awaits you, but don't be spoiled, your twilight giggles dryly, will be off It's getting dark, but you don't see it. The disk of sunlight shines darkly on you, Where you are, I'm never there anymore, I'm moving on, I'm dead without a body, an empty tomb. I don't need anyone or anything from this world, just my wine glass winking at me, Advice for me, but wine is what fills me with all that I still have hope for. My soul is closed and confused, my mind is nauseous, and I'm looking for a new one. Come on The world is now empty and dead to me. Let me end here and for But I never said anything but that I loved you. I'll stake my life against your death, mine flow This is what I want; live without me, and let your fate be exalted, your companion forever forgotten, still So that you can go on in life without him, hope, and maybe love. But with him. June 13, 2022