Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Just a poem

And the softest silken hair,
yet to touch was something no one seemed to dare

A heart of the most brilliant loving light,
yet strangled and wrapped in dark's chilling night

Still in a body quite young and less than fit,
yet a mind so tired, so razed, it prefers to sit

Bearer of lips that crave anothers deepest kiss,
yet alone so often they grow cold; left amiss

And if you knew how much love she had lurking
within, you'd weep with despair claiming it so unfair

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