The echoes of your voice, I cannot remember them anymore,

Your face, your pretty face, I no longer, can visualise,

My hands touch yours, the feeling, I cannot describe.

In a distant place, where it snows, there you smile.


The days go by, time never stands still, it’s only life that remains,

We are living under a pretence, of love and hate.

Pondering about our purpose, pondering whom to blame,

We are all different, that is our only trait.


The calmness in the air, reminds me of the moments we shared,

How do I remember them, how can I forget?

Fleeting thoughts, I suppose, like the burning of a flair,

Or is just the smoke from the cigarette?



21 thoughts on “Pretence

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