lipstick is a din, it ain't a colour, ain't a feel, it 
ain't gonna talk about you so I am gonna kiss you 
goodbye. fragments of your skin on a paper, on this 
letter, on a quick clockwise sequence, they easily slide 
through my hands. the picture of a glimpse gonna darken 
and disappear, whatever is left I'll just stare to and 
emisphere long horizon line