I’m a magician with sleeves full of aces;
I make this gray look pink and red for you.
I convince you these ruins are the best shelters;
I can be clever enough to make it through.
I try every day to save myself from irrelevance,
to keep your pure love and hide my blemishes.
I trick my way out of stubborn coincidences,
prolonging the day your love for me vanishes.
You’re a butterfly stuck in a mouse glue trap.
I do regret that, but I still keep my cover.
I fear this marathon will reach its final lap,
I fear to death of becoming your leftover lover.
Maybe someday my silver lining will fade,
or you’ll scratch it to find the plastic beneath.
Or you might happen to find clues mislaid
pieces of broken glass under your feet.
The art of living nine lovers’ lives will be lost,
but for far too long I’ve tricked the fate .
All that you feel for me will forever be crossed,
and I’m too tired for a new world to create.
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