This
Is this
say I'm not an absolute mystery
always faced with your eyes, and I dodge
when I try to pull them away
.
A stud
not vanish when attempting to destroy or send
far
beyond a new account,
the final stone, hollow
oblivion.
A stubborn Sorisa
that curls my lips
when
sneak into memory as
confusion.
That word does not mean you know me but you know
kissing, touching ...
or perhaps ever
silence the love. Is this
I say that there
but in the parallel universe
a perverse imagination,
where oaths will not fade
and promises that you make me
poison me.
This ...
this ...
is.
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