Angels In Black
I'm falling out of love with you. I can't
keep going the way it was aslant
the axis of your life. From now on
we're getting distant, following along
the timeline till the relativity
of spaces, the euclideanity
of times and rhymes abate the pain of fall,
of out, of love, of with you, if at all.
Angels in black are crying down on us
from heaven. Angels, don't make such a fuss
about us. You are immortal, though,
you do not know what the mortals know:
what is below is like that what's above.
When love has gone, we go away with love.
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