She was more desirable to me
Than all I staked in an impulsive hour,
Making my youth the sport of chance, to be
Blighted or torn in its most perfect flower;
For I think less of what that chance may bring
Than how, before returning into fire,
To make my dearest memory of the thing
That is but now my ultimate desire.
And in old times I should have prayed to her
Whose haunt I hate to remember but cant resist her charm.
It hurts telling you that as we make us one .my love for you will get deeper with my thoughts of her .
For she,whose inebriating brim my soul will forever be locked
Copyright © moha lakers | Year Posted 2016
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