Craze I Never Get Used To

A smile that can light up the dim halls of my desolation

A voice that can break the silence that almost tears me

A shadow that can paint color to blank walls of my mind

A touch of breeze, A taste of exotic bittersweet I cannot spit


This joy kills me

It is temporary

Indulged into madness yet temporarily

It still feels heaven that you exist


I’ll leave it

For the future

I’ll not wish for more


Sparks that I do not know

Who else can see

But me


You’re not even mine.


— A poetry, real quick. Like this moment, seized.

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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