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“The first time I saw you were mine, It was a late evening such as this. …and your smile was equally divine, and you've held our future in your fist. And your grip was, so overly tight, For a moment, rather crushed then held, Like a rose. When your words took flight, Fragrance fell - right beside my bed. It bled out. Like all things forsaken, With a knife, like everything so dear - At once ripped. Like the vows we've taken, Forgotten, began to disappear. Disillusioned. Isn't it so funny? Illusions take most space in our hearts. Your smile - it's like milk and honey, And poetry... Poetry is art.” — Aleksandra Ninkovic
The first time I saw you were mine,
It was a late evening such as this.
…and your smile was equally divine,
and you've held our future in your fist.
And your grip was, so overly tight,
For a moment, rather crushed then held,
Like a rose. When your words took flight,
Fragrance fell - right beside my bed.
It bled out. Like all things forsaken,
With a knife, like everything so dear -
At once ripped. Like the vows we've taken,
Forgotten, began to disappear.
Disillusioned. Isn't it so funny?
Illusions take most space in our hearts.
Your smile - it's like milk and honey,
And poetry... Poetry is art.