I’m standing on the clockface that counts my seconds and holds my minutes – If today i die then will you step onto this place I was at ? Will you hold my space, on this clockface?
Will you remember? me?
Will my seconds dry and sweep away with the wind, until far places hold them incomplete?
I’m not sure, will you?
WIll you visit this place we have? Will you keep my thoughts ?
When I’m broken – will you hold the pieces or will you try to fix the unfixable ? will you remember me by the broken pieces – will you cry when im up high?
are these what i expact – maybe, i don’t know – maybe its possible to be likely and still be certain that things are a mystery.
i dont know