Inedito,  Poesia

On every girl that passes by

On every girl that passes by
Too many pieces of you, I notice
Indeed worn with unproper grace
For such features as yours, white lotus.

A hurrying girl crosses the road
Her eyes combined are one of yours.
I come across ‘nother pair of eyes
She smiles, I smile, think of you and mourn.

This lady awaits sitting in the tube
So close I can even smell her perfume,
Minding her businesses while I mind mine
And desire your touch to free my gloom.

In the end I end up walking alone
I light a cigarette and let my thoughts go,
Eventually smiling, knowing you’re wrong:
Now it isn’t the smoking what hurts me, though.

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