The Black & White Poet

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a bed of roses

some days i look back and i remember you
i don't, however remember your kiss anymore
the taste of your lips or the friction between our bodies
you're slowly becoming a false belief,
a once figment of my imagination
sometimes, when i have nothing to think about, i analyze
in my mind what really happened to you
maybe you did not really exist, and during my mental days-
     when there was war in my spirit and the devil tormented me,
when all i needed was a friend, a love,
maybe you were honestly my imaginary friend,
             (and nobody told me to keep me sane)
sometimes i think you did exist but passed away....that you died
and pain fills my heart
i don't know?
i don't remember the taste of your lips or the friction between our bodies
you're slowly becoming false belief
if i close my eyes and think hard,
i can see a flashback of a quick and silent kiss when nobody was looking
or forgotten secrets passes between our lips and ears
if i close my eyes and think hard,
i can see flashbacks of two bodies and a bed of roses


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a bed of roses