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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 13:18:44 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 86056
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => C. A. T.
[time] => 2005-03-01 01:30:06
[hometext] => for Charles Amon Turner
[bodytext] => There was this man for whom I'd die to see his blue eyes to smell his hair and taste his lips. He not only opened the many doors for me he walked through them as well a Hero a Child a Man. His confusion of love for me was balled up in his eyes knowing nothing would be permanent only fleeting like this life. The handprint he left on me would soon be fitted by others friends boyfriends and the soon to be partner fitting like a glove. But somewhere within the Witching Hour he rises from the dead of my mind in that ethereal smoke and I wait for him knowing that familiar energy unbeknownst to me that this is only a dream. And when the day breaks and I'm left with this unfinished still absent from my life it will be my name that he remembers and it will be his face that will haunt me. Until we meet........ [comments] => 2 [counter] => 220 [topic] => 24 [informant] => Nardo [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LoveRemembered )
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