Our silence gets louder, words fail.

Oh I know, it’s time for sleep.

Actually, call it death to love notes.

An ending to the hopes I had.

Deletion of our private kisses.

Dressed in all black without words.

And this isn’t a sad affair in me.

Just a painful transition to my real life.

A moment of confusion before the correct soul appears.

Honestly, I’ve worn out too many pens on this.

Traces still in my blood but not lymph nodes.

Say something, she demands.

Trashed naughty videos of us now forever banned.

Hating your poetry like you hate mine down the line.

Beach and old love poem fossils.

Not a good bye.

Not a bad bye.


Music that helps keep my mind on things above. Via Spotify.
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