Don’t know why,
Looking at the sand-grains in my fist,
I get the glimpses of you,
Laying beside me,
Talking about love;

Is it about the time,
That eventually slips away,
No matter how hard you try to hold,

Or is it,
Because it’s found in deserts and seas,
Former: where you rarely find water,
And latter,
On the other side,
Does actually comprise plenty,
But of no use,
Because you can’t drink it,

Or is it about the way,
It comes into existence,
Like what happened to our rock-solid love,

Tell me this is just my another misconception;

Oh, well don’t say anything,
I don’t want to be certain of anything anymore.


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