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Дявола носи прада, а любовта тениска на металика
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Но къде си ти, когато се нуждая?
Защо си ти това, което аз желая?
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"- На, кълна се в морето бре, момчета — когато видях смъртта пред себе си, нито за Богородица се сетих, нито за свети Никола! Извърнах се към Кулури, помислих си за жената и извиках: "Ех мари, Катерина! Де да бях сега в леглото ти!"
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sometimes I feel like my body is too small for my emotions
like my brain is not quick enough for my tongue
those sometimes have always been when I silently look at you with tears in my eyes
like time will never be enough to heal my hearth
like the colour blue changing to brown and the sunlight changing to night will always leave a bitter trace
I am scared because my perfume has been washed out of your hands and my eyes are no longer looking into your soul
i am scared because love was not what i was hoping it would be or what i dreamed of
love was that bad feeling in my stomach and those tears that came every time i saw you
and like love always does it comes when you least expect it and leaves you writing poetry for years
even though you hate poetry
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even vodka can’t wash out the taste of your lips
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it’s so crowded in my hearth that it feels empty
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~high as fuck~
~can’t feel my body~
~everything is surreal~
~fuck i still love him~
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i have this urge to scream how much i fucking hate you, but would probably kill for a kiss
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i never truly understood love poems until I found the urge to write one
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I am fluent in emotions and yet I still can’t communicate with myself
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the aftertaste of a good conversation is intoxicating
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