Translucent's just a blurred transparent
and the nidus of agony lies in our chaos strewn minds,
leeching onto a lovelorn listlessness.
On a rainy summer afternoon,
when you run out of words,
fall for a someone with a freckle on the iris.
Remember, you can always let go.
But if you yearn for the same love
and see their face in the heavens above;
if you try hard to get away, but always end up
writing a piece about them on the worst of days,
stay.
Even if it means you'll go to your grave alone,
even if it means you've ceased to be yourself,
even if it means nothing to anyone but you,
stay.
Stay because they left.
Stay; incase they lose their way
to some sugar coated treachery
and come back to spend evenings with you,
while you smile at their bellyache.
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