I heard her say my name today, and it sounded like no.
Love is a two way street, loneliness a thousand way home.
Give people the most generous reason : she did not love me.
I find myself celebrating an illusion, she was a miracle.
Teenagers until late believe in themselves,
Maybe is it a definition of youth.
Reality is a door and a man fumbling through many keys,
While the tide of past delusions rises.
I loved her, she liked me. There is still time, I think.

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