---

We.
We are storms,
consuming
the peace in our heads,
the peace in our beds.
The scars on my back
are what’s left.

There,
There were holes,
We filled with
With storms in our heads.
With storms in our beds.
With scars on my back.

Becouse the love that I dragged was to be woken by the morning after.
It was to be alive, by the morning sun.
And the path that we walked was leading nowhere but to disaster.
Such a sad and a perfect fall.


Falling down,
Into the jaws.
The moon and the crane,
Watching us.
Stones,
In my shoes,
Will they always be there,
Despite how perfect is the path?

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