Responsible Reader

Not all poems
Are about love.
This one screams
About troubles in dreams
Soccer players in teams
Lips covered in coffee foams
Like trees that rise above.
I meant to fill these words
With lingering feelings
Whatever swords I choose
In this dream, I find one appealing.
I’d rather doubt this feeling.
Remorse, remorse, remorse.
All these tremors I’ve been feeling.
Our concourse has ended.
You and I and her appended.

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