Jun 13, 2021, 12:21 PM

...and her name was Death XVIII.IX.2019 

  Poetry » Love
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I so much love to put my hand
Gently through your long dark hair -
This used to be my stand,
This even used to be my cause to dare.
Is something so familiar and dear
About your ghostly osculation;
This way I know it - you are near,
And my necessity will have his saturation.
Once, so very long ago
I saw you through my raving;
You take away my pain and go,
And leave me with my craving. ...

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