If
If I don't recover
if, it is so
Let the brains of snowflakes
cover me in snow
If I recover
If I am equal to regret
Let him chase me
Like hounds to hens
You are the game
An elusive morning
Of catch and release
Praying on the priest
Come now my fair ones
Who I have not touched
To desire and despair
In a life of lust
Copyright © Allison Mader | Year Posted 2015
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