arid.

i want to tell you
all the things,
clogging my brain
and causing my
forehead to erupt.
but you became
a ghost; like all the rest
i yearn and search
for a trace worth more
than tears and sms.

i don’t know
why they go,
or where they go;
but it seems like it is
always the same place,
i know i can’t follow;
i don’t know if i’d want to.
but i hope it’s warm
and your legs feel fresh;
because it’s always cold here
and my moisturiser is useless.

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