Disenchantment

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You played The Corrs’ Old Town
As you crawled towards this boy

A quiet afternoon rumination
Of our great failures and modest victories

Your tears dampened my shirt
As you took shelter in my arms

Thermal fluids lamenting the past
Overwhelmed with fear and discontent
What I had to say melted upon reaching my parted lips


And the words turned into a long wonder breath
Caressing your hair

The beauty of your scars can only be observed in awe

The night is coming and no one should disturb
The dead stars in your eyes

I concluded that silence is a friend of love heavily bored.

I have to leave you before you drown this town,
Blinded with the loss of summer

I won’t say I understand you—
We can only be at the mercy of many difficult loves

You looked at this boy as he stood at your doorsteps
Neither pleading nor calling

As if staring the sun with rage,
Burning your disenchanted eyes

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