Where the lips are silent the heart has a thousand tongues.
You are a lover of your own experience ... not of me ... you turn to me to feel ur own emotion
Stop the words now. Open the window in the center of your chest, and let the spirits fly in and out.
As for us, He has appointed the job of permanent unemployment. If he wanted us to work, after all, He would not have created this wine. With a skinfull of this, Sir, would you rush out to commit economics?
I don’t know why; when I look at you, I see myself
I do not know who lives here in my chest, or why the smile comes. I am not myself, more the bare green knob of a rose that lost every leaf and petal to the morning wind.