A Short Version of Love...

by TheRedWomanAndherBagofLife   Dec 5, 2009


Now, I write, may sound as I am.

But true voices can only be found from the layers in a deep cotton wool with crisps of a shower beats.
Thoughts with valid virtue presists an angry flower.

Tears form a cloudy aurora,
climbing every words the meaning from love,
shots the poor unprotected victims,
leaving them covered with bruises of memory shine.

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