Longing to None

I have longing.

I always have longing.

And in current moments, my longing runs to traces of memoirs.

Collection of silvers and golds.


To one who pop up in front of campus gate

With reactive curse to traffic

Cigarrettes After Sex and Betwixt

& simple casual ‘What you’re up to’


To one with long silky hair

& ‘saya-kamu- refference

For random chilling stroll at sheer sunset

& rather night drive out


To one I have hard time to recall

With barely sober date

After midnight talks & late night drive outs

& minutes for just staying in a car


To traces of silvers & golds

To somehow chill and thrilling ride

For embrace and deep relates

With, well, fail ends


I have longing.

And my longing belong to none


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