Our hearts don't beat as burning paper flowers, despite the fragility of the night folding into warm sea, we move so slowly as the pounding of ocean waves upon my chest. Colors and our love fold all around us nights of oragami as if they were rooms or lives fading from memory, as if they were flowers- Moist flowers that don't smell as a hundred aching petals of yesterday but as all the dew of the morning moon. Even in sunlight all the streets of Japan rain with the scent of night.-Flowers so white that they're red in the night sky and I wish it was all snow, because nothing is more sea than the grey of the tree trunks blossom on foreign streets, their flowers bloom the stars(even while alone everyone cries at the sight of love, waterfalls pour without witness in dead night). My God, the night feels so like a snowflake new in love with our burning souls. We hold memories in our hearts fragile as dead flowers, colors fade everywhere into right now-the sky was meant to fall... Be here for me as the world peaks unfinished with love-This this is how I imagine the world to always end because when I reach out to hold your heart, the entire world awakens, blossoms and beats like flowers unfolding so bright in the night and in our eyes; unfolding the night beyond ourselves and within ourselves, sinking dreams to feel tragedy, unfolding new one leaf at a time to float on the wet pond over our heads, constantly opening a new black sky and holding paper boats over our heads-flowers on fire flow nightly eternal heavens bound, ocean waves brown above our heads and tree branches cradle our dreams into blossom as if umbrellas or windows could shield us from the rain (but it all tirelessly falls down, every moon spills). And we dream our lives through water droplets, a thousand colors in a hundred lights drowning out the horizon-wind shivering on fire because I feel you within me, falling underwater; do your eyes gasp for air or for truth? This living in a moment that will never begin breaks my heart, yet I've never felt so alive looking into your eyes. Love has brought us here; everytime a budding tree reminds me of a life I moments ago died in, I feel we're kissing. Stars drop out of trees to feel water blue- In dreaming we lose what we never knew and, find letting go to also be falling deeply into breathing solitude. What if this moment were as important as it should be? It almost shatters my heart with every breath of love in me when dreams become my night and day, a world broken perfectly by night. And so your hands fold themselves over me and we too fold into love, fold with angel's wings and the night forever. Oh you, angel, created me in the most ephemeral of dreams, but left me unfinished, the night no longer holds me in pearl embraces and I love you so much. Does your face still look as it did with mine under that crying night sky-who are we, now that we'll never be complete? Perhaps you awoke too soon, leaving me and my heart behind in this dream forever, but I could never hear music before I knew you and now knowing the music of night is almost unbearable. Dreaming angel, do you hear trees where you now love and do you cry as if from feeling something you will never quite remember?-You see me yet in stranger's gazes, and feel yourself grasping for my heart under fallen flowers. I gently stir in your heart, puddles of melted icebergs, no matter what world you are now in; believe in love. Yes, you too are unfinished but you will hear new music, feel love in every moment and I will find you yet. We swim together and so far away from eachother in the oceans infinite. You're too beautiful not to die-at least in a thousand dreams of love- and I admit I'll never find the courage to face such a truth, especially when mouth to mouth with your calypso sun setting smile; no, I'll never find words for gratitude, not even in everlasting life. We died in a dream, I never knew you until the fleeting moment of my awakening and yet I feel you with every star serenely evading my understanding. You have always been lost as if stumbling upon or fully remembering a dream for the first time and every heartbeat is almost losing you forever-from a constant fear of painlessly wilting flowers, letting go of everything for the moment, falling and never reaching you, light. Every lifetime is a second of forgetting.  Your heart too will wilt away as the artichoke night peels life and yesterdays longingly from your sky, showering the cosmos of music onto flowers. So that they might grow slower, in yet more solitude, more lovely still-Always with our warmth. But we hear nothing of the flatness of music, the wet flower petal blossoms the night which unfolds in your lost hand-a nighttime strewn across the stars for love.