spring, summer, fall, winter... and spring

What will you be without it?
You know, once you see things, it all feels different, you are forever changed.
The rhythm between two eyes and what is placed before them.
Will you remember the stout words? The voice shakes in every new vague delicate skin.
Feels like a boat that walks around sweeping by the wind. You will be the boat, I will be the wind.
People come around, bringing their favorite syllabes. Big lips, thin mouths, they are always going to tell good news.
New.
What else?
What would you be without it?
Circles, cycles, and everything in between.
I will be writing. I will always write. Broken thoughts are way too heavy to be forgotten. Feels better to watch flowers grow from the rotten seed you threw on the ground once.
What about you?
I will see your leaves on the surface. I will breathe the same air as you.
You must cry. You must hold tight every glimpse of loneliness on the way. Everyone wants to be a teacher, let us teach about ache.
Ink may flow on your papers, ink will burn in my skin. It all feels different, we are forever changed.
Feels like a boat that flows around sweeping by the wind. You will be wondering, I will be wandering.
We will remember the stout words.
And the favorite syllabes.
Just like summer will always bother me, the green foliage and tree barks will make you reminisce about us.
What will you be without it?
That's right, you will blossom, just like me,
into another season.