The Rooms

This is an open love letter to the walls. They stand tall and everlast. There is no weather in their dictionary, nor the feeling of having mildew grows at their feet. They just have no sense of it all.

They have no sense wether they separate us, either. Why would they? But isn"t it what we like? It"s a projection of what we want to be, what we dream of. That"s one thing I adore about you, about us.

I wish we can begin to understand one another. Only by then, we would have better word. But then, I"m the one talking to a wall. Or are we walking in a dream?

Oh, if you only knew how much I adore you around my neck.