Echoing
It's upon these moments-
that I bear in mind, a thought;
the walls of my mind are echoing-
and I know not, which thought they've sought.
If this is me,
then I must not remember what me feels like.
Love should never simply suffice-
it's for this, that we pay the repetitive price;
night after night-
we have sought for that which felt right,
and in love-again-lost our sight;
hung on an idea of perfection, perhaps too tight.
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