There's nothing immortal in my little world. Everything has an end. Don't know if is it right. My rain is falling, my arms are hot, it's me and my butterflies <<;

I miss his wet lips, it doesn't matter that I haven't had a chance to taste it for longer than a second.

My eyes are becoming bigger and bigger, full of small content of my own environment. Let me feel free to imagine me and my butterflies.

I will pluck the moon from the sky. I promise to give half to him, and half to you.

Sorry for my english and good night <;