Thoughts are best when they are fostered by lack of sleep... so... a poem:
midnight cat on the high pitched roof
with tears for a birthday present
what makes love?
the mutual fear?
the togethernessed souls...
twinned, twined, ever falling faster after one another
the most idiotic anger that comes gushing rushing out.
Another cycle done
only once a year will i tell you the deeper feeling
of the timid passion.
You make.
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