Desirable until the moment of the changing of the tide. In to touch the shore to create the swim just to retract as a thought in the mind. To be once luv’d as a phase the end is the night claiming the horizon’s edge. Lost to the depths is relations in times waiting on the ledge. Descending back to earth after flying in the clouds ever so free. One is wanted just prior to the drift separating the heart from dreams. For so long the interaction is a beautiful thing. N then a switch clicks n the transformation lands in a harsh loop at living a different sender of free. Having a expiration date that comes from outta the blue. As there’s no way of explaining why people rethink relations on the move. Going through phases as phrases of luv all sound familiar to the ear. Honey, baby, shugas being a repeated tongue tied fear. Becoming just another face put back into the circulations cycle set on repeat. Trying to avoid the thought of all the long lost dreams...
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