Virtual

Jaia Papitz's picture

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the face I see, I dream

tomorrow I'd love

my fingertips forgot the longing for whispers

attics and shadows

in above, deciphering braille on lover's sighs

the shotgun father preparing the wedding below

running, running until our love grew tired

then, starting again, in the unseen

now, lust is in front of me yet I don't touch

it's bright and too far, the network's excessively vast

i must click to like or dislike

without sweat

 

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