Fruitful paradox

The smell of its fleeing guise creates frost
fictitious was a meeting between us
a thought, a glance in your lens gave a consolation
that the lost wanted to find a way through the fog
Directives were given
through eones of yearning to find the sweetness in you
in my own lost paradise
where the borders never be seen in their parallel rooms
knows nothing more than to fall freely
you would be the one I was in the beginning.

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