(Still) Untitled

I like it this way.

I fancy it wet and gray; fantasizing all those
passing planes in dimmed light, on the late nights,
and the elderly's sincere novella.

I saw the blurry greens, the painted ponds
on a steamy ride, and I asked
the eternal question:

Did you ever know how deep it hurts
when you murmur those words;
while collapsing my world?

I've learnt not to rive, not to sway;
I know how to digest and not to
wind up in any way.

Let's leave them all behind and climb up
to the rooftop; hands locked, eyes wide shut,
seeking then saluting the
non-existent sun.

Let's swallow the poison and spoil ourselves
in silence, in this 'very' moment
cause happiness is 'now',
my sweetness.