He's sound asleep.
I promise.
He sleeps.
He sleeps a lot.
But I still remember his eye color.
It's almost as if he's your sun.
Don't you want to see him?
I miss him.
The air cloaks itself in water.
Doesn't seem to be lonely.
Even those nights it shivers.
He's light.
Too light.
He's not ready to be taken in.
Come closer.
I'll be happy.
We had the same eye color.
He say the sky's eyes through me.
My hums of the wind brought music to him.
We divided.
Yes,
But we made a toast to you.
"Our toastes" or toasts.
He used to love seeing the shifting colors of the sky.
One day he just couldn't.
I just couldn't.
The moon was sitting on a throne.
The stars were peasants left in mist.
His eyes drifted to a fog.
I feel like a desert.
I'm sitting all alone on earth.
I know there's others like me, but their too far.
I can feel our bond sweating out of both of us.
I then feel like a stone burned in her, that's just died on.
Every morning,
You're a flower blooming from the sky.
Please bring his scent back.
Gently touch his eye lids.
Tell him he doesn't have to sleep anymore.
And I will hum to you as you bloom every good morning.