The sky is blue like your blood and your veins
Would they give me the permission
To reach out to your soul or make claims
I have disregarded my own decisions
And touch your slender fingertips
Whose empty spaces leave me entranced
Which spirit allowed you to be such a mystic?
What deity granted you sentience?
Your midnight haunts and empty footsteps
Of worlds I cannot even begin to fathom
They draw me in, you are the only order left
Among the chaos, you become a phantom.
-A.K.-
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