you are like a band whose music I sometimes listen to,
who stands on the stage and is altered by the performance
who cares more about the immediacy of popularity than the
meaning of their music
you are like the sun in
which rises on the 8th day of February
which is so bright that it hurts my eyes.
when I am going outside, it is -10 degrees, Fahrenheit
you are like an immature hope
whose memory is without basis in reality
whose prospects frighten me
it is a step into a forest, an even row of trees
in the dark, when the trees have no leaves
and where you can see between the trees but you look into nothingness
you are like the lyrics without a song
just for the record, I know it sounds trite again
but I love you and I know that I’m immature
just for the record,
I know this stanza was a random collection of thoughts that are over the top
you are deceit
and you are the betrayal of something that I believed in
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