Translucent
[Work In Progress, a quick rambling]
I had never been one for love.
Not the candle lit dinners,
or blood red roses.
But you insisted on taunting me,
And i grew to detest you.
Never the less,
you demanded on taking my hand,
and walking me into the open.
Where I was left waiting,
exposed and bitter,
from the winter storms.
Now you have so little time,
For a shallow soul like mine,
And I have too much time,
For an hazy mind like yours.
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