Eyes meet eyes. Words shake hands. Minds think alike.
Emotions can’t shake out the words.
Days go by.
Emotions meet the words.
Words and emotions go home to hide.
Days go by.
Words sleep. Dreams are filled with emotions. Sleeping on words kills dreams.
Ideas arise. Ideas wake dreams.
Waking is morning. Morning is light.
The same light shines on two faces.
Morning turns to night.
Lights dim. Faces grow brighter.
Eyes meet eyes. Words shake hands.
She quotes modern literature, “I took the world into me, rearranged it and sent it back out as a question: “Do you like me?”
He says, “yes.”
Words go unspoken. Mouths communicate with mouths.
Dreams are found in forests.
Cold nights exist in irrelevance.
Warm words blanket cold bodies.
Two bodies melt into one soul.
Nights grow into mornings.
Nighttime lies.
Morning tells truth in disheveled bedding.
Anxiety lies absent in the weightlessness of clouds.
New clouds bury blue with white.
White is the canvas to paint new colors.
Colors paint the portrait of words and mouths and truth.
