shall I run?
may be forcefully I demand a sweet dream
from the night
often in vain
an ever new battle
but the night gives me the
chance to move back
a dropp of tears
a sorrow
till the memory fades
this cloudy night
and the taste of love!
ah! this love is like a face of a woman
I touch it
with the edge of my toungue
It taste like honey
and the sound of trembling heart
so what? ?
something more than a touch,
and if it is really more
a dew dropp droping down from the petal of rose
can be enough sometimes....
but if something more than the existance
a crisis to surrender
a fear to look in the mirror
now it tastes bitter!
this cloudy night
a forcefull demand of a sweet dream
the sweetness bitterness in my toungue!
what should I call it?
am I running away
from my own heart?
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