Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Come bak to me.

When I drew you close to me, I always smelled just washed from your hair.

The fragrance was a fragrance of totally too young fruit.

We of those days believed that it was grown by all means in the future.

I "like the movie which was sepia".
A gentle, sad story of us when you said so because became you well, and borrowed an old video, empathized, and got cheeks wet with tears, and pushed cheeks of wet you towards me.

Though we were very poor and were not endowed, we were surely happy in those days.
There is a small hole on my chest after you disappeared, and a cold draft blows from there.

It is only breath and warmth for you that is filled up the hole.
I can substitute nothing else.
Therefore my heart is always cold.
I want you to nurse my heart with your smile once again.

Please come back to me.

I may never love somebody to be I filling.
I noticed only after I lost you.
To me only as for you a love anyone.

Because I was too young, we left it and noticed your preciousness because we got old.

Is it already late?

I want you to come back once again.
I never injure you this time if I do so it and do not get it.
I bury a draft of my heart, and send it.

Because I take care of all your cold and warm you all the time and promise it to value it.

I want you to grant this empty wish.
If my wish comes true, any kind of God is good in a shooting star.

Let me start it again with me once again.
Let I come back and start it again.

Because I promise to never make it cold to you.


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