In a day trip, our hands fiddled the possibility of a breather—an escape to aphrodisiac. In the fields of Florence, we wandered with our heads filled with rain drops. The dew covered the sanity we had until our fingers slipped to a dreamless river.
The sound of gaps and gasps echoed around us. In the midst of our travel, we fell apart; across the city, we lost ourselves.
On top of the hills where the breathtaking view rose, I searched for you; but it seemed you found another pair of warm hands. I waited until dusk, but when I knew nobody would be around to seek for my broken soul, I left without the half of my lungs.
When the night came, the thousand stars bled with serenity. I counted them until I fell asleep, hoping everything would turn into a solemn dream.
WORD COUNT: 144
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