Zywa
John
I don't want to write nicely
about the discomfort of his life
and the success of his plans
to put an end to it. It's terrible
for me, for me
it isn't right, it is different
it should have been different, together
in one way or another
Sometimes I recognize him in a passer-by
that way I keep him here
but each time he escapes
even if I jump at him right away
and give a kiss, he is someone else
No kiss was enough
to make him light
too light to possibly die
and kisses are not enough
to make me light again
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