Framed, set alone on my wooden table,
a picture of him in black and white.
He smiles, playfully, as in my dreams.
Beckoning me, but in reality-- never mine.
His eyes, as black as my rotting feelings...
His soul, as white as my blank future...
Staring at me from my wooden table,
his captivating photo in lively hues.
His tousled hair-- blown by the wind,
tempting me to move closer, it hurts.
Here in my bed, reality lies scarce...
Here in my zone, make-believes are forgiven...
Mocking me, right there on my wooden table;
his perfect form painted in blues and greens.
Yet in my heart, it remains black and white--
knowing his everything will never be mine.
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