Lonely Saturday.

In the rays of the morning sun.
Her face shone like a glass jar of honey.
Knowledge of sweetness without tasting.
To taste is to sully the purity with dirtied hands.

Hanging to her chandelier earrings was me.
Grasping to the edge of sanity.

Warm me, Sun!
Banish this cold feeling.

Fail me not, Memory!
For I want to remember this face.
And for me to fathom why?

She had a big ass too. w00t!
Now wait a minute...
I never talked to her.
Never knew her name.
Never knew where she lived.
Aye...

Depressing and lonely, again.