“Hug Me” by Treasures of California
I don't want to see love as
heartbreaks
An emptiness that fills my throat
it aches
My stomach filled with dead
butterflies
A moment of silence, please, the
wind whispers melancholy
And I cook this warm soup made out
of chopped guts and love
A fire it feels me as soon as it
touches my ever-so-pained tongue
My breath worn out a third of this
so--called 100
Yet I feel a 100 is an illusion
and I've been here merely 31
Perhaps more like 3,001
What and why the riddle?
I miss myself, I hug myself,
Where must I go, I do not know
And
Where can I enjoy this
Soup
of hearts fully?