Matter of a Memory

By looking at the stars, feeling the wind's caress on colder skin, It would be as sweet as stolen honey, Without you by my side. For what would honey be if not stolen from a hive that will remember The taste of something they made,but forgot about,in this vacant night. Looking for some chance in strange razors, Asking for some questions after getting the right answers, The clarity of gray grows out of focus, darker. All that was ever wanted,is something to say To make an understanding of how something is missed since it's leave. Each moment is like time stolen from the world, With the world being some cozy french cafe which is/has forgotten time. To me,no new memory exists and not even I, am mine, anymore. With wolves howling at lost hopes within the night sky, Snow covered palms eventaully stopped swaying within arctic mist. On the horizon,now,a silhouette hangs,black and then I am to fall down.

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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