Beautiful individuality

Divides the ambitions.

You look so sweet on that scale,

Like a prominent postcard sent from Milan

Or Rome.


Should I say my consistence is waning?

When I look down,

You are all I see.

Golden memories of regret.

Perhaps this was the most excruciating move

I could ever do with my hand;

To touch you,

Feel you come alive beneath my fingers.

I should stay and beg you for staying as well,


But your heart has other ways to tread

And the path denies the blood.

So do we.

Or they.


The others.

I do not.


I know now

What sweet revelation the blood hides and

Why I shy away

Whenever I touch you.


Sudden ambitions reach my

Level of prosperity.

A silence intervening with

The thoughts of a stranger.


How do you feel now?




Consumed in thoughts of a thousand tears,

Stinging the cheeks of those

You have hurt so badly?

Admit it,

You should admit it,

Or else I will speak for you.


A white wasteland

Covered in shimmery divinity;

Whiteness and purity

Gold without being worth a penny.


There is no such thing

As my friend,

Who follows me everywhere,

Seeing the things such as I do.


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