By Mac Guerreiro

The last thing eye glimpse is the grey of your sweatshirt leaving the room,

Eye’m up now,

It’s no use,

Even the heaviest sleepers have an exception,

Mine is you,

Eye thought maybe this was behind me,

For my trust in you is so true,

But the illusion of the places eye know did more than eye bargained for,

They made me think that this wound was nearly gone from my soul,

Because the love you give me is more precious than gold,

And of that eye know,

Trust me,

This feeling is misery,

And shaking it feels like an impossibility,

So eye sit next to you,

Half pouting,

Half writing,

Not fully focused either way,

Wishing to behave as if it didn’t bother me at all,

Because Eye’m embarrassed of feeling like this,

Because sometimes eye feel that all eye do is frustrate.

Published by Mystical Mac

Born in Brazil and raised in California eye am an artist better identified as a conscious creator and intuitive healer. My gift for storytelling in various forms as well as my keen perception into the metaphysical allows me to share my perspective in ways that eye hope are of help and use to those around me. Thank you for reading, listening and watching; it means the world to me.

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