Pretty silent are the ways in which you'd move me.

In between sweet nothings and glamourized eyes, lies linger, swirling like cigarette smoke.

Ivories held nothing against us, opiate-induced lovers intertwined, 

It's a carrousel that spins backwards, making seasons pass without you. 

It's a three year headache that beckons my irrevocable sin.

What do I do? We can't keep reaping what we once sew.

I miss you. you.know.who.you.are.