nagajna

Non sono gli anni a separarci

ma milioni di pensieri.

Deep, deep, deeper, a liquid black, too dark to see through. The tide reverberates with your breath and I’m scared of water.

Fragile and faded, worn out by all the times I have tried to recall it. This much, that is no longer true.

Fireflies in a meadow, or street lamps on the asphalt, polished by the rain and my steps get them in shatters.