Cold

Cold

I claw through icy layers of love and want, through my own peculiar mix of human essence: Memories; harmonies; wannabes; mimicries… But all writhes in dreams that fuel tumults of emotion, simmering under valves which make my heart resound in thuds.

So let me study deep your selfish eyes, to glean the mind that hides behind… But all I see are my unanswered prayers, discounted and jaded, wearing thin.

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About Mauro Metallo

A Writer and Photographer equally at home in Italy and in Canada.

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