The whole
life, your figure, I've admired
in the
looking glass, your bright eyes,
maybe a bit
lost, or maybe just scared
you, like
me, light wings of butterflies.
Always however, like the morning fog,
you,
gently, from me, slid down
you're the dream’s
mist, the dust in a sticky bog
as a king
who’s lost his golden crown
Thus, for long, my
hope I’ve put in a box
with my
dreams and hopes together
left to
strong wind, nosed up to a dock
my Goblin
king mirrored in me forever
In this
dark labyrinth of fog
You were,
smelling my heart’s quiver
Eyes into
eyes into the black smog
Waiting for me near the deep gray river.
Waiting for me near the deep gray river.
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