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"A poem is never finished, only abandoned."
forgive me but there are some days
in which the gods can't touch...
sometimes i'm out of my own flesh.
it is when i get lost between my bed...
she said we need a revolution
and a red heart...
i have your small hours in my favor
and as we pretend to be aloof...
it is just an empty page calling me
and poetry is born from this mistake...
Touch my most profound skin and I will call this love.And I will call you love.
It reaches through my skin and pierces the night saying: I am, I am , I am.
What is love but the verb that caught fire?
by Yakari Gabriel