Remember when our love was pure?
It was a high ecstatic blood.
We had our fun, but it wasn't everlasting.
We were so young and naive.
When You turned eighteen, you drifted away
and Leaving me to defend myself.
All the love and desire that's full of so much yearning.
When I was only just fifteen.
I wish that there was a love that's pure.
I noticed that a sudden storm is reaching and it's not me.
The back pocket empty handed and no money.
If only you could show that you're being pure like water.
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Comments about this poem (Pure by Ladarius McDonald )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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