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by kaci   Jun 8, 2006


My heart used to be made of ice,
his love lit my flaming fire,
His eyes were dark with sorrow
his grin only showed his happiness
the man was measured by his fearful mask
they had only known for a week and the girl swept her sorrow away
his touch burned her soul
her skin was white as clean flower
he has his fingers on her artful life
she slept and he drank.

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  • 18 years ago

    by livingwith

    I like the poem, its deap thats for sure. i like the line " her skin was white as clean flowers" thats a beautiful way to discribe it. Awsome job, like everyone says keep it up. lol

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