Your face is seamed with past sorrows, but body glows with cancerous power.
The air between our statures is laden.
If there was a wall which parts us, I would break it. But when there is
nothing but us, there is nothing but a fumbling setback directed by the pride.
Oh, poor soul yearning for a justification. A contaminated mind and a bitter
ferment under the starry sky, who is going to catch us red – handed?
I just wish … for a small kiss.
agnes.
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