I'm trying to think about somebody/something else. I really am. But i usually fail... Everything, every goddamn little thing is now compared in my life with him. Let alone chemistry and himself. My job, my collegues, my Academy, my music, my airport, my pc and my future mac, my usa, my books, my nails, my Armani's and Versace's, my patients, my
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the thing is- even when i told you there's nothing funny anymore, when i told you i want to hear something serious, when my soul was screaming out in my letter to you- you kept on laughing.
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The truth is: i dunno what to advise u seriously..
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if you don't know- say it. no need to bullshit about pink handcuffs.
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*hugs*
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i remembered about it now because of last lines:
And butterflies which live inside
They transfer us to other side
We're full of thoughts and full of mess
But what is love? - A curse or bless?
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i used to write poems myself, they're somewhere...
but your poem rocks...
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