youever.

I can finally see the evening again, see how the lights slowly light up by themselves even before the last light gives in to the dark and finally, the wind blows cold again. All these things envelop me, almost like an embrace, a coming home; and I have to stop myself there because the word embrace in remembrance will filter down to you. But embrace and home both feel equally mutual when I think about you. It's just that I don't want to go through that path this early in the evening. Then, again, did I ever win against my memories? Always and ever the fool, because there are times when I fool myself. (I remember every single one of those times, why I wanted to fool myself, and why I succeeded)

I have been thinking that I have never seen a broken heart before only a broken man.