Poetry

Always

How drunk this night could be?
Counting stars and I
Always end up counting You.

How old these trees could be?
Shedding leaves and I
Always end up holding You.

How broke this road could be?
Walking straight and I
Always end up hugging You.

Is it too early to start fresh?
Because in dark I
Always end up Loving You.

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2 thoughts on “Always

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