Can you quiten a bit please? I can't hear the wind rustling through the wooden doorway with ease. Not that it comes to assuage and appease but we can't expect it to cease since it's the lover of the seas and is meant to tease our teas until they run cold so that we can't be pleased. Oh for God's sake, where are my keys?

I need to drive down the memory lane, back through the toll plaza of my past so that I can figure out a way to tackle this wild gust of air. I swear, it's gonna steer us the wrong way until we smash right into the frozen glaciers of reality to be left vulnerable, oh pitifully bare. I wonder why it feels the need to be so cruelly unfair? I mean, we're already deprived of all the love and care. Only God knows this wind that's never so rare for He knows what's wrong and what's fair.

But I miss the time when we set out on this adventure with wanderlust driving us insane. No care in the world, no pain. How we played in the puddles in the middle of the old street after rain. When things were beautifully simple and plain, back on the hazy sixth lane. Was it all in vain?

For nowadays, I feel like we're standing on the brink. Brink of losing it all to harsh realities carved with permanent ink. Oh darling, my heart squeezes with an unknown fear because I can feel the cold in this wild gust of air and I don't wanna frighten you but sweetheart,
.
.
.
it won't be long until the ~Titanic~ of our love and wanderlust will sink.