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"vigors" poems
Concinnity of rapid motion in balance and proportion, round the ballroom, like the synchronized frequency of vibration in a crystal quartz. Whirling contortion of bodies embraced in movement's revealing intimacy. They are partners. They are dancers. They are lovers wantonly stoking libido's hot glowing embers; promenade affirming keen awareness to the vigors of the steps, footfalls and technique of its pretenders. Gown and tux attired, passionate accessories to the cult; merengue, fox-trot, rhumba, abandonment's fertility rites to gods and goddesses, danced with such elegant result, they are immortalized in time --- divine service to the night.
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Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Divine Service
I still feel all the vigors And my mind is still sore But my heart is too frail To feel anything I still hear voices at night Or maybe it is just the sound Of your voice Sweetly calling my name I still feel those chills Or maybe it is just the longingness Between the spaces Of my fingers I still look at my walls As if my sight can strike against it So steady and deep With the sharp thoughts I have I cannot tell what it is But if there is something That makes it hard for one to breathe That is exactly it We all get it Hangovers And the worst ones you get Comes when you love
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Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
Love Hangover