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Perdue Poems Aug 2019
There's no passion in my yearning
There's no joy but great desire
My lips want a simple kiss

Whose hand will take my soul away
He's dressed in black and his hand holds my cheek
My eyes will meet his coals

His face is near so close to mine
His warm breath, like spring, flowers my face
My eyes close to midnight

My rosy cheeks have grown lilies
And his lips have pressed on mine
Our lips feel so warm

All my troubles I leave behind
I take his hand in mine
Death and I: together

— The End —