I stop writing
For the past has no shape
It swells, and blocks my way out
I throw away my pen, surrender
Say, I have no shape either
But just want to pretend
Having a core, or some more
I start turning off
The button of sensation
And turning on
The power saving mode
By some same warm smiles
I eat, I sleep, I see
You in the shape of a blooming cloud
Whereas you could never see