(´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

1

It’s, weird.

2

Like the moonshine that was accidentally spilled on my sketchbook,

gentle and sensitive, emotional and pensive, untouchable and paranoid

ambiguousness.

And I never really understood what it is thinking.

3

It laughs when it’s sad,

It gets angry with nonsense,

while it itself talks nonsensically

“How are you today?”

“I forgot to close my window this morning, again.”

4

Soft and light and transient,

ambiguousness.

Like the morning wind its fingers would slide through my cheeks so softly

and then it would leave

With ambiguousness.

5

I’ve been living with it for years

Years that are not short but not long

And I never really understood what it is thinking.

And I never really understood it,

6

and I never really understood myself.

I forgot to close the window this morning, again.