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Benrie
Don't stare at the window of my soul. Not in the light nor at midnight. Lest we forget love for it knows.
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
Milk
Take the road south of my aching heart. This is the way I have chosen to part. I've pulled my emotions out of my mind on to my tongue. Now it's a mouthful of blood of swallow. The sunken left side of the mattress is there because you were right. I am incapable of loving your body. I must learn with the heart first. I am not proud to say that I have forced upon me a a cloak of false love. I used to pray to recover you. I, seeking eternal warmth and you void of. Off I go now to think in the grey. Knowing I have written my last song to the one I only kissed
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC
My Last Song
From the thick green to the jag grey giant. It does not satisfy my eye. Rather a smooth honey river and a sky full of cinnamon. Not the dancing sea but still coffee beans. An aurora is but aesthetic. Crushing to shards my empty jar of emotions. I lay in empty brown.
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
Native Scenes
Arisen the figure took her breath but no longer the figure she could behold Evil brainwork is at hand her eyes on a stand She knows why but dares not penetrate It is not hard to understand as it is to uphold Perplexion of her thought comes from her incertitude away from Sunrise and morning dew make it crisp to rubber boot La estancia no esta lejos and the figure isn't either She tries to anchor but it's too late the ship has sailed and her horse knows Something sinister in the horizon tempted for a walk. Looking downhill she thought. Walking upright she went. A gazed voice asked for her direction that to which she replied a dirt path Somehow she was taken in foreign dirt. Word she was lorn. Word she was torn. Word she had left God.
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
Cross