My Soul Is Teething... For Your Love Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

My Soul Is Teething... For Your Love

When will you adopt my heart?
Like a child in its cradle
I am like a green flower plucked.
Dehydrating on an evening's vigil.

My soul is teething... for your love.
Hunger fills my every desire.
They're cut in need of sustenance.
To sustain this ambience of fire.

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