Law from theory turns my flaws into a series
Of criteria for cheeriness override,
Forcing the dive from a rocking boat into rocky waters.
Your sweet vocal bubbles got soap in my eyes
That I rubbed with this blue leaf,
But I couldn't be you.
Balancing on your head is
The silk you dropped on the ground,
Which you had spun like two records
Both playing the same sound.
I expanded my ribcage for the incoming swell,
Your eyes drowned in the color that I know so well.
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