Fogged

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sweet and salty drops slowly caress my skin
mimicking you;
they don't dance around anymore
not like they used to

surrounded by the fogged room
vapor clinging to the tiles
only a blurred face looking back at me
hiding behind that smile

I keep the days counting
floating underneath
If you're drowning,
would it be easier to start to breathe?

...

Sheer Thoughts / PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now