We'll fix it,
whatever's wrong.
Holding on to
every sigh played
by our blissful hearts
intertwined like
floating swans
upon the lake,
we'll suffice.
it's never been
more real, and
metaphors hang like
bats on my ceiling,
upside down.
we have wings, i know.
they cling on to hope
that will take us
to where we
want to go.
there, to forever,
and we'll be god
and goddess
on our celestial
thrones made of
clouds and dreams
thrown to the wind.
and we'll have those old,
greying eyes looking at
each other as if it's
the first time. like all times,
with you.
so baby, it's high time
i fixed me.
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