All this poetry crap: about her,

All these bullshit thoughts: without her,

Milky soft skin, but reality has turned it sour,

Love me? Love me not? Pluck pedals, yet will never deflower,

Sitting here, playing with deformed shoelaces,

Thinking: poor substitute, for possible new faces,

Don't talk, communicate via chewed up pen caps,

Message plain, a matter of time before he again snaps,

But nah, my heart a scintillating geode,

Rough on the outside, yet the smallest light.. and endless love glowed,

More of people, yet more and more difficult to find...

Some connection void of the same, intrinsic double-bind.

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