Then after I forget your face.
After a while, after I tasted it slowly.
It is a paradox because you're the object
of what I think is love.
Love, a word that I do not like to write,
but here he found his place, to be written here.
So every time I try to keep the memory,
trying to impress the implications of the corneas.
and stays there for as long as I may,
hoping that lasts.
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