I stole into the eyes of a boy singing the blues. Hair jet black, he'd stars for shoes (?). Smoked his cigarette cos his lips had touched it. And I found out soon.
Windowsill, Paris, France. Cast a shadow of this chance. Hanging over Gare du Nord like I never asked for more. Statues on the building tops. Stooping for the fire we got.
Snipping threads. Images fall clear. Elevation would you find me down here?. I will be waiting for you. Outside of my skin. Falling with the dust of a butterfly's wings.