The room blurred before my eyes. I felt the cold, felt the inevitable chill of wonder over me: I had to have him.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
The room blurred before my eyes. I felt the cold, felt the inevitable chill of wonder over me: I had to have him.
Is anyone happy? They are living in blind optimism with the ugly rat race, desperate suburbanites who never could quite understand beauty or love.
This must be it I feel alive now that love had the breath knocked out of me.
The word love is the idea of fate and magic and yet, this miraculous blind optimism to be loved by one human I am afraid of.
Every breath we draw, every instant of life must be called into existence from love.
How can he leave her? Women: he seemed to run from them - was he to blame, he like most men, believe loving a woman eternally isn't compatable and already it is tomorrow.
My love spoke softly but with passion, and longing.
The lonely life of a poet is the primary source of poems on lost love.
If one looks at that unreal reality of boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl; the boy in question happens to set the standard for all lovers to come.
The gaze at her was too tempting to resist, and so, in a stride, he had her in his arms then kissed her face so earnestly.