Reminds you of erstwhile “real love”, when there existed nothing like “pretentious love.”
The words unsaid, he writes them down for you.
Forever immortalized, yet forever unsung to you.
Words of radiance, words that mourn, of little promises–
Never made yet somehow broke.
It’s the only time he ever feels wronged.
Words bathed in a prodigious mirth, the irony untold.
Words stolen from a balm in aiden, for the rarest among
the radiant maidens. Little bits of magic unfolds—
Perfect little blemishes on his darkened soul.
In the restlessness brought by the moonlit sky is when
you come to him. A moment of dire weakness, to the
For if ever a tear falls for you. He won’t ever let it show.
He will take it to his grave, cruelly uncried. A curious
little sparkle in his eyes.
He will hide behind the decorum of the stern countenance
forever worn. Stupidity, serenity, demands of a behemoth pride.
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