Inconsistent bigotry of love
warps my mind into believing
That when your eyes stared
a million heartbeats into mine
footsteps were slowly retreating backwards
too far from where we stood
at the blinding moment
when the sun seemed so bright
Now, the trace of your hand
upon the dream where I was born
disappears as quickly, painfully
as a memory that has not yet begun
And leaves me with no solace
where the fragile paper has torn
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