What did thee do before thee found love, sucking off the
tweet of pleasure, a reckless bandit, waking the endless sleepers who unaware
served your needs?
Was there a moment when love tempted you like playful nymph
in the forest, playing hide and seek, making you aware of things greater than
what you had, making you want more but could give the no clue as to how to make
that come about, and now when all has become an empty vessel, not even a cup half
full, you look for signs of where love might have gone, tracing loves footsteps
through the fall of leaves, Tracing what once was and might still be perhaps
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