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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:20:21 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 96942
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Sinful Bliss
[time] => 2005-06-05 17:56:03
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => There is a taste of blood. copper to a sensitive tongue. She remembers When Things Used To Be Simple. He visits her each night... In a cloak of darkness... Eyes like dying stars, They glow in the emptiness in her room... She sleeps. He kneels at her side and whispers... 'You are mine.' There is nothing. Just the window... the curtains... Flapping in the breeze... She will not come to this place again in life... But under hazed eyes, Visit her family... Durring cover of night... They do not hear her, But the scratches on the window... And of course, Her Little Sister Shall Let Her In... Sinful Bliss [comments] => 1 [counter] => 143 [topic] => 13 [informant] => ForeverAndADay [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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