(no subject)

[missaline]

in the summer camp
down by the hill
I get some time to think.
laying down on the pier
throwing stones to the lake;
one stone for everything
that I'd really miss,
like my dog, and the crows, and the smell of here.

and I'll keep a very special pile of
heavy, and black, and polished, and weird,
and terrifying stones
for the nights when i missed you
and even when I could still see you.

for the sweet things you said
that i dont wanna know if they are true
for your wearing my shirts and riding your bikes
in a warm night
for when we didnt even say goodbye
for when i was stuck in the airport
with amazing lightnings keeping the plane to the ground
and i wouldnt even call you

for the anger and the pain that we softly built
for the anger and the pain that we tenderly built
for the anger and the pain that we hugly built.

herman dune - in the summer camp