He
Brings too many secrets
Decides not to talk any more
On a ruin of the memories
The guy is a deposed king
Silence, is the fate
Those undelivered letters together with all the addressees
During the time of unknown destination
Were sentenced to death
While in the pantomime of fate
Inside the man-in-green’s bag
Buried my final stationery writing to you
And also, those in his eyes
Lines of verse as beautiful but toxic as the white oleander flowers in the spring
-- Love is short, but longer than oblivion
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