Like I'm made of absence and water
I try to hydrate myself
Like I'm a dry tailed mermaid
Cooking inside a mattress' box
And then I pull my hair away
Push myself against the ice
And towards the unknown
Into expectancy
I'm always alone
What do you want from me?
What do I want from thee?
The poem dies as soon as it gets born
This isn't how love is supposed to look like
I never met any sort of affection at all
I pray to Ioba and hope not to die yet
Not just yet
It's not even year 2
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