robert m drake - #192 Poem

What if, just what if a shy hello would spark a blaze. I stand firm, being. all while I wait for a glace of notice. Her voice like keys and my lust like the moon over her scape. To quench not, I thirst. Before my weary eyes stand alone, you for me and I, the classic fool to believe in dreams. I weep, for a lost love so deep; it crawls out of my bones.

robert m drake

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