Garden of Sinful Stars
All of this is up to you,
Tongue tide.
Just a future memory,
secret memory.
We're fallen into nothing.
scared to move on.
Face to the wall,
picture frame.
Longer days, lingering on.
The best of nothing.
Find your way back,
for another short kiss,
soft lips.
This is you, this is me.
Stand together,
holding hands, ocean seas.
Belonging.
this is a memory.
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