#192 Poem Poem by robert m drake
#192 Poem
What if, just what if a shy hello would spark a blaze. I stand firm, being. all while I wait for a glace of notice. Her voice like keys and my lust like the moon over her scape. To quench not, I thirst. Before my weary eyes stand alone, you for me and I, the classic fool to believe in dreams. I weep, for a lost love so deep; it crawls out of my bones.
Friday, January 24, 2014
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5/2/2024 9:36:01 PM # 1.0.0.1119
