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.