But you forget. Calloused are my hands that dive for the next
lover with fingers on my lap. I am tired. And she is no longer with me.
I dreamt of hollow nights with you, under a mirage
of a shining star that burns into the night. The day lasts for a
million hours, drunk, walking disoriented in a strange university
that I never really cared for. Someday, she shall purse her lips
unto my ear like a dog that hunts for food. Someday, she shall
shiver with warm desire inside my arms, and these breaths of mine
shall impart poetic wisdom that I never wanted to share. But still,
still, as I stop my heart from these romantic visions, as I search for the next
verse in paltry phrases that mean only one thing, still I wish that
the love of my life in a dissonant and dystopian future could be you.
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