My Love Proses

Prose 45: Vaudeville ot Stars

my penchant of honor, under the cruisin lights next to our countryside avenue where an arbitrary eclipse impinged by untouchable silence stared down the passenger seat and edicted the symphony of mellisonant music that I never deserted to play on meaningful repetition. the panacea for the verity I sang upon by unearthing maverick, old school memories that we can no longer rescind and rewrite above the polar moonbeams with an ostensible hope of meeting you earlier than the remaining stopwatch of your crippling, penurious and mystic wonders.

while the vesper tuned off as an incarcerating slumber in disguise, i paid attention to the core piece of a prodigal class, not that it was seemingly infused on the baroque period but its contemporary haze brought palpable solemnity and sanctuary to the purest love that i yearn to take into heart. the music you once written through the spectacular vaudeville of celestial bodies on our panoramic horizon. the astronomical specks that i believe can bring life to the universe we forever sing in duet.

"look at the stars, look how they shine for you, and everything you do, it was all yellow."

if only an ephemeral halcyon does not cleave our arithmetic of chance, i hope to see the last mosaic of creative memoir that you embellished for me beneath the galaxy. and even if this rural boulevard bus leads me nowhere, i take millisecond of our medieval time to ride every detours with you. as midnight chose to beguile the ambivalence above this gravitational story, may we summon every tailend of comet to let the universe hear our voice, switfly singing a reborn in paradise of thousand light years.

nothing sweeter than your arcane on the stars.