TrelawneyJoemar M. Rivera

there is this timewhen I thoughtof buying you a faucetbut to no availas my left hand dug deepon the bedrocks ofmy jean’s pocket.

too bad, you really need onefor your eyes are twin waterfalls.the drip, drip, drip of each dropof liquefied feelings,of emotions translated to another stateis too dear that i want them to remainas silent as before — the after phaseof these allusions is no longer bearablefor your soul.

please. forgive me for all i could do nowis to think of a thoughtmy hypothalamus has allowed me to share.yours is a universe full of stars yet frailand mine is a body light-years awayso please bear with me.but do remember that no matterhow far, how hallowthe situation ismy concern is true.

when the time comes,my hands will no longer wipethe tears you implant on your cheeks —you can do it yourselfcontrol it (hopefully).Too much will be in moderate;Too little will be remedied; and, stagnation, over-usage will be drainedon a tornado of nothingness.if you can’t help yourself

to these, please remember:hush and strive because no one’s gonnahelp a lady who does not help herself.

the search for a pennymight take some time;but hold on, my dear.hold on.