My burning eyes wouldn’t cry,
My physical range wouldn’t be buried,
If a flower would need the moonlight,
If the world would ignore the sun,
All the poets would be prophets,
All the dreamy lines would be buildings,
If I could worship your lips tonight,
Our tongues wouldn’t slide,
They would merge,
Like distant streams unheard,
Lips don’t meet,
They live dreams lost in sleep,
As your half smile gently weeps…
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