How woebegone hither interred
in an ol'heart,a whim maimed.
Long dreamt the sacred space,
A yearn, my dame you dettered.
Lie wizened a withered dream cry'n,
O' bloom, I crave a kiss adieu
To daub my death bed nether,
in your embrace, Alas! cared never I.
Food Selfies
2 years ago
1 comment:
Meloncholy should pour out from the incessant complaints to your soul itself,But here I dont see that :P
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