As if suddenly
a sweet memory
melts slowly in a dazzling sun,
eyes drip over white cheeks.
The outline distorts till nothing's left
of the person I wanted,
or..
Was it just a sneaky folly of a heart
that knows naought but transient games,
a pastime ended as vacation passed,
leaving a bitter residue.
Have I lied to myself
to allow a thought that I loved
just so I can say
here there's love inside. To proof
impatiently and rudely as is my habit,
to make sure i'm able to love,
to poke the spot lightly, so I can make sure
my creature is still breathing
inside, somewhat alive,
a plastic heart.
.
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