Acrylic board, silver organza

To whom I might know
I dreamt of you again
Dreaming of your hands drown in the dark
Dreaming of bowl after bowl of soup tasted like home
Dreaming of the stream of water endlessly flowing to the invisible
To whom I might know
I could really use a bowl of soup
to quench my thirst
to fill my hollowness with warm
Let the dirt become water,
Let the past be forever bygone
I visited your place so many times
When will you scope for me?
When am I deserve it?

Success (2)