How can your slim neck,

the one I worship,

cope against that massive pressure.

It’s the first time I haven’t heard you

sing in the shower,

and I wonder what you’re thinking,

or if you’ve drowned.


Like being underneath a sacred waterfall,

I assume you’re wishing for it to

wash away the impurities you imagine.


The world is running too fast lately

and I am afraid

that you were expecting to fly with me.


You are my universe.

Didn’t I make that obvious?

I’ll miss us when we’re gone.