A WEEK WITH MY LOVE IN ROMANTIC LIMBE
My poor heart
is not beating
No, it`s
fluttering
It overpowers
me and takes control
And I become
nothing more than its lapdog.
I don`t
think I`m walking
No, I`m
floating, like a ghost
But I`m a
soul
A lost soul in search of its soul mate.
Time is of
no essence
Neither is
space
For I know
that thousands of miles as she is
She is still
here with me.
I smell her
aromatic breath
I touch her
smooth body
I caress her
childlike cheeks
I hear her
heart pound too.
Then
suddenly I recall
I remember
that night at the beach
We went to
Limbe for a day
But stayed
for a week.
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