An undying passion.
Tenderness, and such affection.
They fill this head,
And pour with satisfaction.
They just keep weighing.
Those that many adore.
Can be such an art form.
To have this hold.
Boundless words we chose to control.
This, or that.
A love infact.
For many adore,
These words as an art form.
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Comments about this poem (Art Form by Jessie Jett )
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