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Harsh  Feb 2017
All dried out
Harsh Feb 2017
It's that time of the night; that time of the night
when you've made a new year's resolution to give up ****,
smoked the last cigarette and the shops are closed,
but sleep as it appears has little regard for the better person you are trying to be,
so you scroll through random videos and searches on how to beat insomnia to find,
Historic photos of love during wartime.
Suddenly you are craving for that kind of a grand love;
a love so great it hurts, it stops time,
it's commemorated years after,
but would it have to be a soldier?
Would there have to be a war, because #WorldPeace and #SayingNoToViolence is trendy at the moment,
so perhaps a sailor or an astronaut?
Does it have to come with an epic good bye, miles apart and no guarantee of return?
Though we all ache for an epic romance, that may be just a little too much work.
Suppose it's only natural when you're living a daydream and think in cliches,
the kind of love you sort after is ironic.
Is there just one?
Would it still be grand, hypothetically speaking, if it's lucky number six you are on,
As we've got the goodbyes, the distance and unpredictability down to a T,
before I become all dried out--- of love,
hope you'll make it rain, for me.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 03/02/2017]

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