With or without you, this polynomial life will continue

Let the fire touch your skin. Let the wind push us closer to each other. Let the softness of your secret thoughts harden my love. Let the rhythm of my heartbeat become the symphony of this mythical relationship of ours.

Let the fire touch your skin, dear, this is where the love begins. 

When you're about nine thousand.. ten thousand.. eleven thousand, or God known, who gives a damn miles away from the one you love and you're contentiously counting the days to hold her hand just one more time, your memories start to fade away, like the smoke of fine cigar. Some leave a remarkable taste and some leave a deep painful scar.

All that's left is ashes on your table.

With or without you, this polynomial life will continue. But I'll be a blind man trying to look at your eyes. A blind good looking man trying to touch your skin with his hands gone missing. And a blind good looking brave man trying to feel your love with a shattered heart. Depression is no longer a dark concept for you, it's simply reality knocking on your door. 

There's a phone that's been continuously ringing for the past seven and a half hours.

There's a heart that's been beating violently for the past twenty seven hours.

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