Soulmates die
when feelings are revised.
New souls emerge, like weeds
-from what seeds?
from what sieves of the wise?
A lie is always but a lie.
New mates appear
on wild nights, late.
"Have it your way, fate!"
"Dare, under the moonlit fear!"
Wake-up and sigh...
Mates survive, it seems,
fragile, fleeting souls
- all that is left from holes
dug deep in dreams.
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