of poetry
Separate.
Usually accompanied by
brief spells of rain
or french songs
a cup of tea after
watching
the sun rise.
That world
talks most
of love
A love I don't feel
everyday, anymore.
I wonder
if it should worry me.
It doesn't.
I also wonder why.
What exactly it is
that make me
indifferent
apathetic.
Denial is
a thing of the past.
As is my naive heart
and that,
without wonder
worries me.
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