Everyday, with scattered shards of what would be called: Fate
I look to you and your hands,
which now seem unknown to me
Your face, a flicker
with strands of thread-like hair
A sleep so long and unbreakable, that I cannot wake
A mirror before me and yet,
I cannot see what is in front of me
Where white ravens roost,
Escaping the doldrums of reality
And still I sit and stare,
While moist patches of skin dry around your nose;
I guess I've been awake all this time,
But it almost feels endless.















Comments
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I like to pretend that you belong to me, just to play with the idea, but of course I know you don't.
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