
You’re the echoes of my everything.
You’re the emptiness the whole world sings at night.
You’re the the laziness of afternoon.
You’re the reason why I burst, and why I bloomed.
You’re the leaky sink of sentiment.
You’re the failed attempts I never could forget.
You’re the metaphors I can’t create to comprehend this curse that I call love.
How will I break the news to you?