bona fide
the scent of a candle in love with a passing you
compare of us, the share of destiny, nigh
the salt of the earth which we know to be, a christened could
maybe, or by the sanity of having
the walls of chance and the dim nothings which come, to yearn
is an our of solutions in gray, that have the sense to seek loving
in the tips of toes and the mildness of a brow, long before a kiss is to earn
shame dwells to nothing for a moment, and then comes back to this
many ways with a name for each, but in the silence we share
the passion of dissuasion has a hand that can, the poignancy of legends to wish
by the by, and seemly to sigh's, the arrogancy of youth is but a dream, we make to fair
regard and in the end realization of a knowing, notting, need
regret for the surrounding muse of each, to his or her, assumption in old
the way to a heart of commonness and the perfunctory work of glee, is me
the compassion of sense for a changing hand, in the myth's and history's of yet were, the sight of know...
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