I’ve been in a positive frenzy
remembering your dark eyes
and your wet hair in the summer evening rain.
I’d like to say you haven’t hurt me,
I can dust myself off and remain the same;
but why should I try to convince myself
of half truths and flagrant lies?
If goodbye and separation
were Mozart and Beethoven,
I’d be a master musician
in the London Philharmonic Orchestra.
If loneliness were a virtue, dear lady,
you’ve rendered me a saint.
In ancient parties I thought I long forgot,
I saw your girlfriends kiss your hands.
Now, I want nothing more than
to be one of them.
5: 14AM 11-26-2016
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