an almost accidental gathering of poets
 
   
 
 
Leonard Cohen
 
I am dying
because you have not
died for me
and the world
still loves you

I write this because I know
that your kisses
are born blind
on the songs that touch you

I donīt want a purpose
in your life
I want to be lost among
your thoughts
the way you listen to New York City
when you fall asleep
   
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