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The Artistry of Sentiment

I could speak of the meaning of love and make its vitals food for words but that 
would tarnish its real meaning. I’m not in my own world anymore. I’m in a world 
of combination and care. Her words engulf me into an abyss of mystic nature 
and leave me pewter to a hammer of lust. Her body sways with willow-like agility, 
nurturing the air with a smooth melody sung by her hips. Vibrant waves of 
happiness seep into my pours as her smile pulsates flashing beams of joy 
toward me. Her eyes as delicate as glass, display an asymmetrical balance 
between elegance and enchantment. A vine she is, inside my body, spreading 
her angular roots throughout my soul, synthesizing melancholy into passion. I 
have grown weary of sorrow and it’s multiple followers. There is a new light and 
a new reality were sunsets burn into lovers eyes and crickets sing ballads for 
liberated affection.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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