Unpredictable
Oh yes dear, I have read
your poem. So, you are on
hand for my loneliness
and you believe,
we could
regain our lost hours, some of that
old scent, lingering in our skin
every time I kissed you. Often,
you were fond of me, but I am
different now, unlike yesterday
when we used
hand in hand strolling the sea
of love, where seagulls watched over us
and envied our morning walks. Ah,
sweet memories wither
like flowers and no one will ever know
who you’ll be in your next write.
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