Elisa

She is all the colors in sunset at full brightness and a shot of espresso and vintage rare vinyl and muse to the poetry and music, and whisper in the dark and unforgettable mistake and refrigerator light and light bulb in the kitchen and forehead kiss and bedtime story and comforts dream and moon and hazelnut coffee when it rains and unsent letters and bad romance movie and unproper ending and goodbye, and stars to the sky and rhymes and medicine and a dreamer and adventurer, and joy and sparks and thoughts at 3 a.m and late-night talk and favorite quote and song, and forgotten memory and art museum and sideways galaxy and orchestra concert and flowers to the secret garden and jazz night at the restaurant and bird at the beach and wilted flower bookmark and dusty unread book and a guitar picker and the last petal of a flower and unspoken words and messy hair and miserable life and night air and candles light and the dance with laughter at midnight and the last wishes and exciting days and another chance and cinnamon girl and light of hope and a stranger on street and poet in another universe and the wind from the windows and unfear of darkness and cold tea in the evening and orange tree and black and white film, and old polaroid and unpublished poem that written at 5 a.m and the missing part of a letter and sounds of the firefly at night and the smells of vanilla cake from the oven and four-leaf clover.