In The residue Of Loneliness
In The Residue Of Loneliness.
Sometimes we go
to the well of
tears too often
and still thirst.
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Envelope me
with warm glances,
from your liquid eyes.
Make me
a home in your
most welcome arms.
My withering soul
is an almost empty bucket
green with algae,
but sensitive to the
sunshine of your smile.
My emotions are a desert
trying to develop an oasis
in your heart.
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In the desert that is
found in the word desert-ed
there is an oasis of love,
with warm palms to soothe
the burning, and two pools
of compassion to gaze into
and find a quenching
of your despair.
One must seek out
this oasis, avoiding the places
that are overused, or dried up,
or simply a temporary respite.
When you discover your
oasis of love you must encamp there
and make it your dwelling place
as a paradise for two.
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