empty bowls, you and I

there is no cure for this

primordial solitude

 

no antidote to fix this

immeasurable loneliness

 

there are only the illusions

of loving and hurting

 

enough to fool the self that

we are not alone in this world

 

but truthfully we are empty bowls

which cease to be complete

 

but I like this feeling when

I am with you

 

as if being lost and empty

is not too bad after all

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