Hindered by sober restlessness
Submitting to the amber crutch.
The theme in my aching prose.
Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan;
That pour of a bitter red being that escapes a thin frame.
The rebirth of mutual love
The slipping on gloves to lay tenderly
Im dying."
- "Is it blissful?"
"Its like a dream.
- I want to dream.

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