Wednesday, August 27, 2025

a dance with the journalist

past midnight, it's time to get ready for bed

but now, 2am conversations became bedtime stories

i type in "b" and it comes to your words shed

even if i can't be sure what episode i'm on this series


we were so close, yet we faced different directions

no coincidence, or maybe just avoidance

i know that it's for the best

no more surprises on my chest


the sensation of watching your words dancing

even my tears and smile are in sync

in another life you'd be a star writer

and maybe i'd join in one chapter


but I'm not sure how heavy is the weight

of what we were, what remains, or what stayed between us

is it heavier than one week of haunting thoughts?

for now, i'd close my door again so you can move forward with no fuss

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