I don't know how it is possible to feel so close to you at times but so far away in others, like there's a switch, a moment in time to lock us in. Each day, I can't quite grasp the essence of your bright light before it burns to ashes around my fingertips, like our love is doomed, made for sweet ends; dirty the papers, walk the roads, smell the aromas, taste the rotten parts of one's hurting soul. Then...