You used to have a like Clay to me. Not dust. Or just caramel shades to feel. You were aestheticity. Someone real in and out of my dreams. My fantasies wonder poems consist of you. Yet my heart is harden and you have and always will be my soft spot. My Achilles heel to default. Just another artist's dream. The canvas that I ached I ached so bad to know the mystery that kills me so. Clay. Softness I wanted to know how to just mold you in my hands. Just Alil dirt but to me you could ever be dirty. Until my heart got ripped out from my Air supply and I knew no longer gravity. Barely beating in your hands. I wonder am I a ghost now just to dance along with the memories of you and me. Same tune same song some explanation why the rain still melts away clay? I was backstabbed just to kill what was ours.