1 мин
Слушать(AI)Tell myself
I tell myself to forget you,
But the thought of comes like a ghost,
Like a felony ,
Like a disaster.
The happiness immeasured that we used to have
Turns inot a lucid dream,
A spiritual game.
Your absence
Is like a guitar solo,
So warm and painful.
Your presence
Was like the lights on stage,
Like a lottery ticket,
Like a holy prayer.
No one can see
How immense it was,
That feeling of unity,
Until we lost it.
Марина
My poetry doesn't reflect my feelings.
It mostly stems from observation and communication with the others and sometimes from long days of readin
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