Loneliness as a heavy cloud,

Wind is strong in this place,

And I’m not sure what

Would help from this cold.

I hoped, I’d survive it,

But where are you now,

And such words as ‘dare’

Are printed on the gray stone,

Like an answer ‘no’,

Or like the silent look ‘yes’.

We climbed up the rocks

Of your gray perfume-shaped

Triangle town as three rivers flowed,

And I fought with myself

To forget how time does.

Learning the gesture language

Could save from the curve of speech,

A speech into virtue

As we shared the bed

And my hand clutches at handhold

In railroad’s mourn,

As if it was your hand.

Once found, but as a word said,

It remains unspoken.

With the warm smile on mind

That I forgot I once had,

I’m awakening from the sleep,

And calming down ghosts,

Which watch from above,

For a chance to look into gray

Eyes of our child.

There might be no future…

No rest, nor point of return,

The truth is close,yet it’s so far away.

And as I watch the colors of winter fade,

I make my heart beat in your sake,

And I know that this shall stay out of the questions.

(c) Triangle Town,
Transport Aerian Project,
Bleeding 2013.

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