23 seconds of strange spring

Reminscing the night before the party and along with the hangovers

They closed their eyes, holding their hands up and reminisced about 23 augusts of losing seconds and time.
Gone were the days of early morning dawn and red wine's delight, they were the towns fools in the middle of the night.
Seeking love they do not know in feelings not even cupid equations can ever define.
Trapped in its spell like swimming
tides we can't fight.
With sounds of virgins of pure spirit but a heart not devine.
There is no word to title them, for there is no such title for being both darkness and light.
Truly our lives in death and existence are portraits of the perfect monarchy design.
With visions of wisdom that fright.
Touching pleasant flames that burn with no sign.
Chasing peaceful springs in winter and endless stars of a hundred nights. But not tonight.
Tonight a hundred stars fell but nine made wishes and none were yours or mine.
How strange that winds pass by and all those fools do is take their eyes sky high and fly kites right out of white cloud's sight.
In the 23 augusts of strange springs with hangovers they claim to enjoy, heck they swore they fine, so why whine, they just losing seconds and time.

Author's Note

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