Unjustified beauty. Undeserved, illegitimate. January, eight ante meridiem, an hour pink on the snow in the early sunlight.
Sometimes I'm sarcastic towards my own dreams and yearnings - colossi on clay legs. I think of You before I fall asleep and I deride myself, yes, it's so obvious – everyone sticks to their thoughts of somebody else, just like to a water spring. Which poisons them with yet another yearning.
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