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Mar 2016
My skin is dieing,
To just feel yours.
Sprung,
Like early flowers blooming.
Eyes;
So apodyopsis.
We are panoply,
The closer we get the more
our bodies become vintage.
She is the somber clouds-
for I shall catch the very first raindrop,
Tasting her sweet presence
on top.
Mirror me the crown of King,
While such ***** words you whisper within my ear.
Let us melt together like candle wax,
Swimming in eachother with such painted emotion.
And did our love feed the flames,
That burned inside of us.
Moan to me,
Moan to me as if it was your
last breath ever taken.
Written by
John michalski  Indiana
(Indiana)   
369
   --- and DivineDao
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