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When I dance

dreaming of you

in my arms,

there is no music

that I need;


you and me.


Every time I did something

to put up a brave face,

I left a little piece of my heart

lying on the street

unnoticed, alone

I wish I weren't brave

that I didn't don the smile

that I have been seasoned to put up

I wish to go back,

pick up the pieces

and find myself,

once again.


It shall always be

sad by my bedside table;

neither a half-read book

nor ages of remorse

could bring you back


my heart doesn't seem

to give up.

Nivirago is a part-time poet and a full-time dreamer. She enjoys briefly visiting the kaleidoscope of emotions buried deep within her heart. She uses her pen name and writes mostly about the sad monotony of everyday life: love, hope, expectations, and existence.


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