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202
apparently i wrote this as a note on my phone at 12:38am, 24/12/2012
i was having a great christmas by the looks of it

seven suns pass
and i find myself lying here
volumes of thought exacerbate my need for you
every line of your face
every colour
every shade
pigments and bumps form desperate hope in my weeping eyes

im becoming blind
i question why i wait for you
what is there to love
i forget how you talk
your manerisims are lost
the structure crumbles into sand waiting to be taken by the winds of time

i cannot surrender the idea of you in such a dash
it is a labour of what i have become adjusted to
tolerating pain as to keep what is good





 
 
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