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Quiet evening, watching something I thought I forgot, or I wish I had forgotten.

I write messages which have never been sent, and sometimes they find their own answer in the bliss of silence.

Hair and lipstick, dead memories and ghosts lost long time ago. 

There's much to be seen, yet, right on the corner of my eye. But as the (s)age taught us, as far as I turn my head everythin's gone.

I may seem to have given up chasing happyness at any cost, and maybe that's the way to find a smile instead of the same old grin I've got used to.

I lose myself beyond the leaves, and I feel blessed by the poppy god.