Will come

And when tomorrow will come this picture will be deleted like it has never been inside my head with no regrets with no solutions and I won’t remember your smell, the moving chain of your hairs flowing around like a bunch of rice spread on a plate, the frightening and exciting light of your eyes promising and cursing;
I won’t remember the sound of your voice making my existence to vibrate nor the summoning smiles nor the way in which your hands can dance with mines, and I will no cry for this because a dream can luckily die without a trace.