Smoking with your voice,
You wrap the present before boarding,
And I wonder what it looks like on the screen.
Is it loneliness?
Or a diary of lost memories?
A part of me left empty as you leave.
Not romantic enough to chase after the wind.
Too distracted to declare independence from the house
I give no faith in.
Snow turns into rain falling on my leather jacket.
And we both stop pretending.
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