There’s beauty in the way how
the clock’s wheels run
only to kiss each other,
and then to
run alone again.
There’s beauty in the sound
of the fire, how it starts with so much
with so much glory,
and then it just stops.
There’s beauty in the rain that falls
making love to
the last November night.
There’s beauty in the smoke
of unfinished cigarettes,
laying lonely but yet together.
There’s beauty in the almighty
white parts of the wall I’ve stared for 1 hour.
There’s beauty in the curtains
hiding me and the night from the sins
we make.
There’s beauty in the sound of pleasure
reaching the piedestal of crashed dreams
and burned houses.
There’s beauty in the dreams
I’ll miss dreaming tonight,
there’s beauty in everything
and nothing, in space, mess,
but mostly there’s beauty in the tiny little pieces
of death I’m living tonight.


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