The rawness of old love, of that spirit love, given surely, through the senses - ours is not a trivial mortal affection.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
The rawness of old love, of that spirit love, given surely, through the senses - ours is not a trivial mortal affection.
Spend time on the good and keep going past those old hurts. I want to be in peace with a clean slate.
Listen carefully, the fall and rise struggling to be heard. This song was familiar, full of loneliness an old ballad imprisoned in his ghost.
I hear mother warn me I would be an old maid. Well, perhaps my need of solitude is all I look for in this life.
It is such a notion, that light might be an old friend to me.
I say truly as I draw closer to the end my heart is better in old age.