As the sky relieves itself of anguish, jealousy, and painted joy, There we are, tiptoeing between impropriety and wholeness. . . Carrying the creases, the weight, the way they crash through us like cannon fire, Stripped bare, layer by layer, swallowing our consciousness. . . Yet that pale face, soft against the dusky sky, caressing mine so gently, like the wind carried its whispers through the grass. . . "Is it weird to wish for someone to grow with?" i whispered the familiar script. With your weary eyes, and uncertain smiles, You gave your shrug. . . Silence fill the space, as the sky continue to relieve itself. The tar beneath me entertain my sight. As i am expecting the silence will be short-lived, I lift my headup, Our gaze met, and i realize, The silence, those pale face, simmering with orange dusky sky, Is all the things i live for.