What I Want Is For What I

People Say That Time Slips Through Our Fingers Like Sand. What They Don't Acknowledge Is That Some Of The Sand Sticks To The Skin. These Are Memories That Will Remain, Memories Of The Time When There Was Still Time Left.

As If When Someone Close To Us Dies, We Momentarily Trade Places With Them, In The Moment Right Before. And As We Get Over It, We’re Really Living Their Life In Reverse, From Death To Life, From Sickness To Health.

I Say Good-bye To Hope, But I Also Say Good-bye To Hope's Disappointment.

They Don’t Have Silences Together; They Have Noise. Mostly His.

There Is Certainty In A Ring. The Non-ending, The Non-beginning. The Ongoing. The Way It Holds On To You Not Because It's Fastened Or Stretched Or Adhered. It Holds On Because It Fits.