It’s September Again.

My memory of you is a home built by emotions;
With you, with me, it’s an extravaganza composed of laughter, belief, fear of loosing, surprise, sadness, following up with anticipation, anger and bitterness.

Without you, without me, without that alchemy between two human souls, it’s an abstract sculpture of sick heart, attempted to mend with faint smiles and fragile secrets.
Never works, so it soon becomes broken.

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