The evening does not smell of crabs and shells
The moon is a pale patch of cinnamon
You take shoes to walk through your dreams
The street loves the rhythm of your steps
The wind moves through unknown rivers
The asphalt is caressing your glasses
Too soft to prevent
This night is full of your tracks
When you walk you don't stop
And you don't touch the ground
And not me you notice
And you keep trying
To pass me by lust
I still tremble from your look
For some old reasons
I can't fix myself

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS