Lost Words

All of my past lovers are poems 
Lost words in my realm of existence 
They were all bitter yet pleasant 
Tears but laughter in a transparent neutral essence 
These poems of mine are much of an acceptable regret that I inevitably advocate 
The love sounds were all a mere mantra that are now antiquated 
Cold spiritual cardiovascular origins often return to rekindle what’s long been fatigued 
 The reason why it’s hard to breath is because my past forces me to wear my heart on my sleeve   
Torn poems ripped into the pockets of my jeans 

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