: These days in my imagination—
nothing but you
can remain, can last.
: Have you decided, then,
to write only of me?
In imagination there are thousands of faces—
they turned to look back,
yet they never felt your touch.
Why this indifference toward them?
: To indulge my feelings.
: Meaning?
: There only your eyes surface—
slowly they grow clear.
And I cannot escape that gaze!
To Your Gaze
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