Monday, February 15

Moony Love

In this corpse of a heart lies inane,
Love like dew on a winter morn.
If you reach out and touch the pain
Beware, your fingers shall burn.

Only anguish floods the veins
No blood flows in this lifeless shell.
The hope waxes and wanes
Like the moon, I too shall dwell.
-

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Letter to RAD - Take 3

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