grip of the sun

πŸ“Έ Free to use under the FreeP!ck License by AI

the rustling of your thought
immortalized on the canvas of my soul,
it's like a docile whisper...
and I don't hide you... —
your daily routines have deep-rooted
on my joy's lips, dementedly
and I love you…
[but how much I love you...?], you see,
this poem, I didn't write it yet
it nested itself in your chest, and beats,
[I don't know exactly in which wing], but
its vibe feels in the grip of the sun

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πŸ“–πŸ€πŸŒΏ

beautiful world

tell me something beautiful, she said, — (∂ + m) ψ

give‧me‧your‧fire‧give‧me‧your‧rain

i wonder

suddenly

please

and you, my love

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