In summer

I crave for romance, brave actions that claim my already sweepened love. Hard to do without the lover.
So instead of dealing with the uneasy feeling that pierces me at the reminder i hopted out with a perfect romantic summer on the alternative reality of books.
But even in this heavy friends spread across my living room (because the return to their rightfull place, the shelf, is always delayed by the possibility of wanting to relive the best moments) i find bits and pieces of reality.
And i'm trying to get lost.