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this limerance, pulsating.
it's probably 5 am
or 3 in the afternoon
out there
where you are,
and the silence
creeps in
masking the aroma
of the loud mechanical
throb of the city
the taste of
metal, blood,
neglect, euphoria
and melancholy
and out of nowhere
you felt yourself
unfold a little
crumple the edge
of your control
just a little
and you're clutching
a photo
of us
in the drawer
of your mind
and this bubble
of familiar pain
and longing
surfaces inside you
there, right there—
I'm with you.
or 3 in the afternoon
out there
where you are,
and the silence
creeps in
masking the aroma
of the loud mechanical
throb of the city
the taste of
metal, blood,
neglect, euphoria
and melancholy
and out of nowhere
you felt yourself
unfold a little
crumple the edge
of your control
just a little
and you're clutching
a photo
of us
in the drawer
of your mind
and this bubble
of familiar pain
and longing
surfaces inside you
there, right there—
I'm with you.
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