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Wednesday, 19 April 2017


these dreaming desires
are such folly, 
the glass was emptied
long ago. 
that bouquet still lingers 
strong ago. 
it's like trying to fly 
without wings, 
those sea-touching warm nights. 
do you suffer this 
distancing stress? 
i cannot to my quietness go 
in tranquility, 
there is no measure on its 
timeless fingers, 
it's all getting further away
towards me. 
is it circular? 

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