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As Far as Your Lips from Mine

Cold Sheets When I Sleep and When I Write

By coffee writerPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
1

Maybe we got wet

Under the same, identical rain.

Maybe we spilled the same tears

Under different bed sheets.

Maybe we thought of each other

Under the same peace of our restless spirits.

Maybe we are broken indeed.

Yet we don’t fit under grey skies

Further away, as far as

your lips from mine

shattered and tenderly split

into sweet pieces of ice.

I wake up these days

Touching the right side of the bed

Looking for your eyes

Where you use to rest your mind

Every and each one of our nights.

But you’re not there. You are not there!

Even if you accompany my dreams

Even more in the coldest evenings.

This morning the rain woke me up

Calling the cold of the sunrise’s wind.

The sheets are ice by now

And so are my pens and hands

That don’t want to write any longer.

Let me love you

Let myself let me go

But do not leave me alone

Because the day

Nowadays

Doesn’t exist anymore.

surreal poetry
1

About the Creator

coffee writer

I'm on my wave to make my words count

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