you, me, us
our love is like coffee
in the morning
like a special cigarette on
a special day
not more
not less
just there.
we nourish our freedom
and the lack of it
we sleep when we meet
we cry our happiness out
and die smiling
when we don't touch
on the inside.
there is no dignity in love either
when it is just another face of death.
This poem was written by Eliza Simon on Jan 20, 2008.
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