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Jul 2019
In her room
On her bed
She was the rising sun
Autumnal oranges with hints of red
Dancing on the walls
Psychedelic kisses
Nothing is as perfect as this is

Though the sun always sets
Evening regrets
A thousand shades of pink
Ultraviolent violets filling the sky
All painted black eventually
Apart from the speckled starlight

The cold of the deep night
As souls are sleeping
Breathing in 4/4 time
A common time signature for common people

Then there's the stragglers and delinquents
Bar room brawlers and disgruntled infants
I believe they call those bar room brawlers
Although I'm not so witty
And not pretty enough for anyone to care

She hangs pictures of her and her friends
On a board above the desk
Happier times with wild smiles
Dressed in Sunday best
I feel so sad and sickened
That I was all she had now
In this strange town

Her shoes of English leather
That matched my soul that matches the English Weather
An obvious blend of grey and petrichor
My reflection in inconvenient puddles on the floor
I suppose that was me before

I don't know if it means anything
Is it meant to mean anything?
Why does love seem like everything?
It's all just one big comedy
Or was it a tragedy?
Or are they both dancing in moonlight
And crying with laughter
As we pretend it's all alright?

I thought I had things to say
But I never want to say them
I don't know if they're true
I don't know what to do
I think I wanted to say them once
But every time I see you
Things feel different
But I thought we got on well
I wonder if you'll read this
Or if it will die in the back of a book
Left on the shelf

I know this is hard to read
Forgive me
I never kept a diary
I have no order
And I could never colour between the lines.
How many references? I don't know.
Written by
uncommon decadent  21/M/Manchester, England
(21/M/Manchester, England)   
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