there is a window in your eyes
where I am locked up
bathing in the gentle flow of the tears
every night when silence takes over
I hear you calling out my name
I hear the words you don't utter
and the songs that you don't play
you touch me like you are turning a page
of the book laid out, chapters of shame and fear
and I will adore you still, till death takes over
i stand in the cold
reading the autumn's ode
another spiteful day passes away
and we talk
our incredibly intellectually stimulating conversations
your Alex Turner-esque face
the fucking gluten-intake
the insignificant yet somehow intense moments
of today
and yesterday
and tomorrow.
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