So, I see beauty in my reflection, reflected in the expensive mirror, with a wooden frame. My reflection doesn't even seem mine, anyways with dark circles below my luxurious black eyes, that still haven't dried from the constant exposure to your heat. I tend to be too poetic at times, I guess and hence, I see beauty in all things, surreal and in all things that could have been. //caption// I see beauty in your dazed morning eyes, when you are still torn between letting go of the cherry orchards in your dream and letting in the sunlight through your bedside window. I wonder, if you still have a
