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Hands gloved
blood smudged
hidden under the eyes mud.
April or May
so the stars say
Isn't that cliche?
Calories dropping
realities showing.
Calmness of the moon
blown by a monsoon.
Tunes playing in the room
reminding me of you.
The moon withdrew
I knew it was true.
What is left to do?
Lust into dust
hugs into drugs.
Can I be loved?
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Dear stranger, I'm sure you will find your loved one soon. such a wonderful poem.
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