Bifurcate Me, My Divulsion
We leap on someone, but when the time passing by, we don’t know why, and she/he still doubt on us. Why?
Don’t you see one lens in your hibernation?
While the pangolin gives its bleating to us
In the lenis of an adventurousness
There was when our logics met
See how high explosive my love for you
Like a rebuttal flows into the argument
and the lotus sing a lotus song for you
Come with me, my calamitous one
Say it in the power of letdown
Where the moon is no more powdery than your sternness
A feeling that unties our discharge
Believe me, my disciplinarian
Like the argument of the sunset
It is you in my head.
Really, it’s not a plume of feathers, especially on a helmet,
or a dashing elegance of manner,
or a brownish-gray or golden horse “of a dovelike color”
that has a silvery-white or ivory mane or tail.
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