naked brunch
all bad poetry is sincere
Cumartesi, Şubat 4
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Within the dream you said:
Let us kiss then,
In this room, in this bed,
But when all's done
We must not meet again.
Hearing this last word,
There was no lambing-night,
No gale-driven bird
Nor frost-encircled root
As cold as my heart.
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