living for the hope of your call,
i can barely remember your voice,
do you still wait for me?
or do you walk around picking juvenile hearts in the claw machine?
you were a libertine in a modern society,
yes, i’m waiting your message,
meantime i hear the records we used to share,
the bittersweet ballad of what’s gone before
and the melody of possibles uncertain futures
makes me think if i really deserved being crowned as the rainy eyes kingdom majesty,
did i deserve being left with watercolor eyes?
i made you my sacred sky,
nowadays you are a fleeting stranger
running through the labyrinth of my heart.

Pampa Gallagher
if guys don’t want me to write bad poems about them, then… they shouldn’t do bad things!
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