• 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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