..and cosy the night creeps upon me, dwells soft in my eyes with lingering lies, of shadows forgotten and things not to see, starts drawing pictures, where there are none to be. Tangible thoughts of dreams yet to come, while I hush the moments that are supposedly gone, but as I move and consciously think, the dreams are fading and my head out of ink.
Anyway, what good does it do, to write black on black, when you lack a color, which can’t be kept track. I look back on my lines, which were dearly written, all faded to dark and I become smitten. Now I can feel, the charms of your way, your reckless whisper, you cover of day.
In the dark you can’t say, what is going on, instead vibrant vibrations are coming along and in variations I do phantasize, the night is so beautiful as it dwells black in my eyes