deepundergroundpoetry.com
Glances
You look good tonight.
Not that I’m looking.
Not that I can.
In ancient times they would cut off your hands if you were caught stealing,
Why have they plucked my eyes out?
It was only a passing glance.
I am forced to survive off the scraps of memories.
I’m sure the sky is beautiful tonight.
Can you describe it to me?
Not that I’m looking.
Not that I can.
In ancient times they would cut off your hands if you were caught stealing,
Why have they plucked my eyes out?
It was only a passing glance.
I am forced to survive off the scraps of memories.
I’m sure the sky is beautiful tonight.
Can you describe it to me?
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