your love grafted my soul with surgical accuracy of a kiss enameled with palladium's gaze of your bon-ton mannerism ‧ how could i've been predicting i'm gonna lost in poems, with you in my mind... flying, unseen, while i will carrying... love's torch ‧ how could i've been identified if my love for you seems a flaw… a sin... which didn't fit anymore on the skin... of your dreams... ‧ how could you've been framing about how this love of ours works... nobody knows... (nor you, nor i) how could we know how it oars