“I am because you are,
We exist in this age.
Waiting to be loved,
Hating to be loved.”
Something about it can never be true
Someone without it is never true
WHY goes to the HOW and shimmers with the WHEN
Time wraps the best in a velvet rosette.
Live it, Feel it, Heal it
Just to believe in it?
Lust plays the Icebreaker as Love Dances with Reason
The poem undulates on paper
I just stare and wonder.
Is it really true?
I ask you.
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