On Account of Having Watched Sleepy Hollow

I’ve been writing snapshots of us since I can remember living. It’s not the deficit of real snapshots but I just can’t seem to invest too much on those things. Bytes can’t really frame the warmth of those moments nor the scent nor the sound. Only in these things do I relive them…

The mud and the scent of alimuom while we sat under the arch of summer rain.

The putrid stench of metro sewers and the soft breeze tickling my nape.

Your hand mussing my hair.

These things have become impossibilities now for they can exist only in my memories. And I just wonder before I sleep that if I close my eyes and wish for Neverland or if I put on my red shoes and tap them for home, would I feel these things again with you?

Click your heels and wish for me.

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About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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