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𝔈đ”Ģ𝔱đ”Ļ𝔠đ”ĸ𝔡 𝔟đ”ļ 𝔱đ”Ĩđ”ĸ đ”Ŗđ”Ļđ”¯đ”ĸ đ”Ŧđ”Ŗ 𝔩đ”Ŧđ”ŗđ”ĸ'𝔰 đ”ĸ𝔱đ”ĸđ”¯đ”Ģ𝔞𝔨 đ”Ŗđ”Šđ”žđ”Ēđ”ĸ, 𝔄𝔩𝔴𝔞đ”ļ𝔰 đ”Ąđ”¯đ”žđ”´đ”Ģ 𝔱đ”Ŧ 𝔱đ”Ĩđ”ĸ đ”Ŧđ”Ģđ”ĸ 𝔴đ”Ĩđ”Ŧ 𝔩đ”Ļ𝔤đ”Ĩ𝔱𝔰 đ”Ēđ”ļ 𝔴𝔞đ”ļ, đ”Ļđ”Ģ 𝔞 𝔴đ”Ŧđ”¯đ”Šđ”Ą đ”Ŧđ”Ŗ 𝔠đ”Ĩ𝔞đ”Ŧ𝔰, đ”ļđ”Ŧ𝔲 đ”žđ”¯đ”ĸ đ”Ēđ”ļ 𝔠đ”Ŧđ”Ģ𝔰𝔱𝔞đ”Ģ𝔱 𝔠𝔩𝔞đ”Ļđ”Ē,
𝔉đ”Ŧđ”¯đ”ĸđ”ŗđ”ĸđ”¯ đ”ĸđ”Ģ𝔱𝔴đ”Ļđ”Ģđ”ĸ𝔡, đ”Ŧđ”˛đ”¯ đ”Ĩđ”ĸđ”žđ”¯đ”ąđ”° 𝔴đ”Ļ𝔩𝔩 đ”Ģđ”ĸđ”ŗđ”ĸđ”¯ đ”°đ”ąđ”¯đ”žđ”ļ. 𝔖đ”Ŧ đ”Ÿđ”¯đ”Ļđ”Ģ𝔤 đ”Ŧđ”Ģ 𝔱đ”Ĩđ”ĸ 𝔠đ”Ĩ𝔞𝔩𝔩đ”ĸđ”Ģ𝔤đ”ĸ𝔰,
ℑ 𝔞đ”Ē đ”¯đ”ĸ𝔞𝔡đ”ļ 𝔱đ”Ŧ đ”Ŗđ”Ļ𝔤đ”Ĩđ”ąđŸ›Ąī¸,ℑ 𝔴đ”Ļ𝔩𝔩 đ”ĸđ”Ēđ”ĸđ”¯đ”¤đ”ĸ đ”ŗđ”Ļ𝔠𝔱đ”Ŧđ”¯đ”Ļđ”Ŧ𝔲𝔰 đ”Ļđ”Ģ 𝔱đ”Ĩđ”ĸ đ”Ąđ”žđ”¯đ”¨đ”Ģđ”ĸ𝔰𝔰 đ”Ŧđ”Ŗ đ”Ģđ”Ļ𝔤đ”Ĩ𝔱🌌

đ’Žđ’žâ„Šđ“ƒâ„¯đ’š: đ’Ģ𝓎𝓉 đ’Ļđ’žĖ¨đ“€đ’žĖ¨
Written: August 28, 2025
He
He
inhales his cigarette deeply
he, with cold feet
he,
his voice hoarse like Tom Waits,
he watches a Britney Spears reel
where she dances with knives.
He,
reads the Odyssey
so he may read Ulysses.
He,
falls asleep
and in dreams
he calls my name.
Refused to pick his calls,
And blocked him
Saying,' Give me a break."
He sent an advert in a newspaper,
With her name, number and address,
Which read," We buy second-hand clothes and goods here."
29/8/2025
How can we learn to be together without losing ourselves?
How can we avoid burning up in the heat of assurances
And fading away in the cold of a rainy autumn?
How can we keep our feelings from freezing like glassy ice,
Finding ourselves eagerly waiting for the spring thaw?

We build ourselves piece by piece,
Gathering dried leaves.
No longer you, no longer me,
No longer even us —
Only these branches that want so much
To come alive in late spring,

Longing for the soft kisses of warm wind,
Without violent storms that leave behind
Torn promises of a peaceful future
And thunderous, harsh words that burn into ash
Shaping a bleeding groove from within.

There will be no sweet stability,
Only these pieces of lightly blue,
When, after a long, lonely night
We open our arms shyly, thinking yes —
Even if only for a minute,
Endlessly repeated.
"When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
"

Lyric from the song "The Rose

<>

Who?
among us has not let this stray dog thought
litter their human mind,
coming in from the far side,

when bruised and battered, you, on the bottom chancing,
dredging for some chance expectation that
you chances have not all
been used up,
luck run out

you've all experienced the decaying angst
of when this long love thing goes awry away,
some often. some not much.some in tumbling brevity,
some after decad-ent years of agonizing, before
scissors snapping the last fraying plain
white string that lastly
remained

she sees me cornerd on the love seat,
and laughing accusesme of
writing only love poetry
for another, while
smiling winks,
at her only
love poet,
who
kisses
her each hand
when the sunlight mixes
with early light and his heart
can see it illuminate our faces
I saw the earth swallow bodies,  
The sky steal back the sun ,that shines even to burn.  

I try to keep souls that end up draining me dry.  
All was just a dream,  
Believed to live in , suddenly, so soon, I had to leave.  

Like hell built in diamond bricks,  
And doors with every beautiful color.  
It attracts ,it forces one to stay,  
Even in the absence of peace.  

It was hell , it is, and it will be,  
Until we're ripped apart,  
With scars on our delicate heart.  

Until we start losing ourselves,  
Until we feel more than confused.  

Then later, we are forced to see again  
And it's better  
To sit with our demons again,  
But not in hell  
But in heart.  
For they'll sure be my teachers in disguise.
The power to detach is described in philosophical way in this poem polishing the attractive dark side that pulls us in the trap .
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