I want you to have this photograph
(I don't know why)
I want you to have these letters
For they mean nothing to me now.
But this life and its already arrived,
When you have gone...
And I am clothed in ashes...
And you are the sleeping child.
I want you to have my epitaph
For it was written to you...
Without ever knowing...
And when the purest fruit
Of the vine
Has gone sour,
Frozen hands of the warmest spirits
Will destroy the fear for good.
A n d I C a n L o v e Y o u C o m p l e t e .