the slow art of breathing bitter

You're lost, River

You're lost in the midnight laughter

And lost people like you

Don't have any address.

Yet I search for you everywhere.

I once nicknamed you 'River'.

Sometimes I sit near the sea.

Spring showers, bluebells blooming, dark pink horizon—

Everything's there except you.

Did anyone ever know

You would fade into the dark pinks

Of our singing horizon

forever?

____________________________
A/N: I guess the lovely votes and comments haven't faded, have they?