The Usual Non-Plain We Had

It feels more, but it is less.
It looks bright with a dim light.
It is frozen with a heat.
It keeps going on, but it doesn't go anywhere.

It feels heavy to open, but I stay awake.
It tastes sweet on the lips, turns sour on the tongue, and it goes bitter on the throat.
It brings laughter in the beginning, smiles in the journey, but tears at the end.

It flies like a butterfly, but landed on the ground as a snail.
Moving... moving... it will take the whole week to get to the end of the road.
Until the heavy rain falls, without thunder, without sunlight, black and wet.
It is too hard to cope with the situation. 

But at least it doesn't look plain, it doesn't feel flat, it doesn't mean empty.
It has volume, it has texture, it has taste.
It leaves a memory to remember, that I was there, that you were there, that we were there.
It is love I guess, that I can no longer join in a quest.