All these things mean all to me
The smell of her lips
The strength of a bliss
The sun ray reflecting on the glass
The tears of my wine
the shout of this woman
The graveyard of my senses isn’t born yet
And I’m raising my eyes to the sky
But I don’t pray
There are these people running through the street
I don’t ever see one, I am
The light off of a blink
I sometimes feel so small
I don’t want to go quick
This is how it has to be
Not as it should
The remembrance of what we said
will tear us apart from what we’re doing now
Someone told me yesterday
“I regret”
And I ask myself again,
how human is able
to feel like a small hurt animal
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