by fathina diyanissa
His loves were already long falling, but sadness still streamed through his long, slender fingers,
reaching, seeking,
But for the arrogance of the bones lining up his vertebras, he would've for a thousand times kisses his drying, dying loves.
He could only go as far as his vanity allowed him. Granted, pity had the look at him but he was wise enough not to lose to it,
he knew full well, albeit loads of longing he felt he could just break his bones and go greet the love of his life, he could die whilst so,
and so his loves would crunch apart at the first tip of his greedy kisses.
Perhaps, vanity for this once was keeping him safe.
It could not have helped him from the sullen, bitter frown, but come another dawn he survived,
each surviving day adding his many wishes, may the first of year's rain soon come.
