postscript.

everything you touch

turns into wind

therefore, you can't touch it

or see it anymore

but you know it is somewhere

don't you feel the days pass by fast

and we don't remain the same?

you stroked my hair before walking away

I can't believe that I cried a tear for you

now I feel like if I'm able to do anything for you

and it's not funny when you don't care

now I know, those days that we spent together

they were dreams vanishing into fake kindness

in reality, we never got to know to each other.

and that second seemed years

it was so hard saying "hello"

oh, all the little things you notice

when searching for love out

there was a butterfly resting on your window

it looked like it was dead

but, suddenly, the feeling flew to the skies.