and my heart skips a beat.
You are not a faded memory, and in my peace stiched reality,
this is garbage, unlawfulnness, and decite.
Remember spinning with me in a small road,
snow on the ground, a girl watching.
Remember spinning in me in a hot room of
fairy dancers?
My heart now spins, and life goes on, but
a little less, pain, promise, or certainty.
I live in the Pink castle. Someday, join
me for tea?
