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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:35:28 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 59920
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Lust...not love.
[time] => 2004-08-12 18:23:32
[hometext] => weird peom
[bodytext] => I smell your scent of bitter lemons You come closer, tie in hand, heart far, far away. In this morrow, I hear the sound of monstrous lust that is your eyes, your cold, blue eyes. How did I get here, in this place? With only my apron to call my own. Does fate seem to enjoy watching me suffer? A fool I was to think that your love was mine. LOVE What is this? To count the hours of afternoons alone? Is this love? To be in pain during sleep, your fingers running so quickly down my chest. Is this love? To be forever in "debt" to you, for bringing me in to your home? Is this love? I don't think so. This is called Lust, the undying anguish I call my life. ~Shira [comments] => 1 [counter] => 161 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Shira [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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