Scratching the surface of dirty pavement
Sneaking into the crack on the body made of intentions
I felt the depth of a single line resisting against a broken nail
Leaking through pores of skin rained the questions
I sat and listened to the song of silence
Dressed in a darkness of an august night
Having a dialogue with ocean of steps and desires
Stockholm hostage of seemed
infinite "might"
And thousands of roads lead by deltas of veins
Exchanging the memories of skin and concrete
Bring no words no solutions to choir of timeless scenes
Of ceasing moment meant to be.