This word is gonna jump
each of the steps I propose to count.
This is another excuse that I look at,
from my bedroom to
your empty space, where
this word expects to be
hold.
There are many spheres
you say, but I do not look for them,
without address I
curved my memory:
sounds, a sort of pain, and still lights
back there.
Tell me when I'm gonna stop,
I need to hold this word.
I cannot see your eyes in that photo,
perhaps I'm too close to that sand
I cannot touch them.
However, I'm gonna wait 'cause
I believe there is
a way where your song
could help me
stop.