teuz-83175
I have phases, like the moon. Phases of walking in hiding, phases of coming out into the street... The bane of my life! Loss of my life! I have phases of being yours, I have others of being alone. Phases that come and go, in the secret calendar that an arbitrary astrologer invented for my use. And melancholy spins its endless spindle! I don't meet anyone (I have phases like the moon...) The day someone is mine is not the day for me to be yours... And when that day comes, the other disappeared...
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