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23:13 - Absense of All

I'm tired of swapping secret stares And silent touches, barely there. Unspoken words congest the space Where cryptic signals mark your face. But then again, what would I change? I've grown fond of our untold strange. Your wandering hands have boundaries few Your idle hands have work to do.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 5/8/2011 2:20:00 PM
I love this piece! Brilliant job with the rhyme and meter, it flows perfectly. Great job!
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry