Rue

92 words·46s read
(To feel sorrow; repent; regret bitterly)

You're fun, I'm not.

We are two opposite pole
Made of the same flesh and bone.

Still, I'm ready to let go.

You're like a bird that glides free,
For me, my cave is my solace,
A quiet place of tranquillity.

A glance in my cone,
You'll get to know,
I'm a mess,
But you, O you,
You present yourself with such finesse.

I love to watch you fly high
'Tis love, 'This love I have,
Letting you go, Tis love I claim.
∞ ∞ ∞
— Cotek
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