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The golden moon hangs high. A bruise cuts the sky in half.
Clouds fail their mission. Stars hide under a blanket of light,
given off by the lonely city, where I sleep tonight. I wonder
why I hate you, when I like you so, and I say it doesn't matter;
we're not "us" anymore. Lay down on your lies and sleep
with what you kept or gave me falsely: Hope that the world
would soon collapse, the shadows would rip, and we'd hold hands,
every second 'til the end. Tell me you don't feel anything
when I kiss you and I'll tell you I have died. Maybe I'm
a fool, but I don't understand. When we're alone, the world
stops spinning, and I want you back, how I always dreamed you.
Now those same dreams haunt me on darkening afternoons,
where I have hours to think up all the reasons I'm alone. And
I'll fail until I find the world's end and look back at you,
in the distance, from where I'll stand then, with another
by my side, and our footsteps drawn together, and our half-hearts
intertwined. Time to move on.
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