Passing days

Daylight love is your voice softening talking about her ; Whisper. Night love is the distant siren where my feelings crash ; Scream.

Cold.

It's 2 am, on a wednesday night, a reminder that I am still to force myself for my act of survival in college, for two more days. Gazing at what this balcony offers me, I stare into this abyss of emptiness. I see mountains formed up, where in daylight I have seen trees crowding up, [...]