Blasé

The final note disappear into smokey spaces lingering between empty glasses.
Longing fingers reaching out for lonely promises reflected on the tired faces.
We close our eyes to protect ourselves from the desperate truth of the dying light.
Keep the words of our desires hidden behind the walls of many a futile night.

All I can offer you is the soft and gentle touch of a loving warm embrace.
All I can give is the hope engraved on peaceful kind lips touching your face.
All I can be is a small flame in the midst of your wild unpredictable storm.
All I can do is to take your hand when empty heartlessness becomes the norm.

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