Each night,
As the light leaves the ground,
To explode in the sky into infinite stars,
Here I am, somewhere; leaving this body, leaving the world
To go back to the beautiful corners in my head
Where I have carefully crafted our memories, like an artisan
I paint the story in all the colors,
then throw a bucket of black.
The whiskey gushes down my throat,
and I press the cigarette against my lips.
Like a cold breeze at 3:00 am on the streets of Bombay,
This is to the warm feeling, I'd never let go of.
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