It was in the middle of June,
The sky was dripping blue.
Telling me everything that I once knew is just illusions.
That day I wanted to renew the thoughts of my desperate desires.
The thoughts that turned into a silent cry.
A silent cry which formed an echo.
An echo of those things that I so badly wanted to be true.
I wanted to tell you that the sky was so blue that it reminded me of you.
Or I wanted to ask the day when it was drizzling,
Did you feel the same way I did?
And some imaginary conversation, some cognate reveries.
Which ends in a thought that all are only vague inclinations.
And I looked up at the sky
White clouds started painting the sky.
And those thoughts were fading away.
But in the middle of that night
When the sky was raven black
And the moon was nowhere to be seen
I had a thought that
I hope I never get to know the version of me you have created in your mind.