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Sweet oasis in the dark.
Desperate Wives on the TV
and a bowl of oatmeal,
breakfast in bed at 9 PM.
Lover blasting on my cellphone
in my pink shorts and your white t-shirt.
Refrigerator lights lighting up the dark
when it comes to slow dancing with you.
I don’t think it’s ever enough
to burn with the flames you’ve lit
when I’ve bent time to carve my own
path to freedom and independence.
Because in the end, there’s shelter
after the rain ahead of us
when we cry to music that freed our soul.
I guess that’s the oasis of love.