If it's broken, just pick it up.
If you want to recover, just stick it together.
But what if it was that heart? Pick it up, will you still want it?
Do you know? Only it understands how blood drips and tears flow when heartache occurs.
Red blood, transparent rain... Intertwined, mixed, lingering. The warmth is entangled with the coldness, and perhaps, what is left is just some kind of youthfulness.
I don't want to ask for anything more, because my heartache is numb. Without consciousness, only the world with you is left.
This article, I don't want to write it too gorgeously, maybe it's prose, maybe it's an essay, I just... Want to tell something.
The words now are the only things I can rely on and talk about, that's it.
Only this way.
On a lightly rainy day, I always like to sit down at my desk and write something, so I remembered these illogical sentences.
I always like this when I am free between words.
Simple.