Wednesday, November 16, 2005


In darkness she sleeps, so silent and alone.
I watch each rise and fall of her chest,
Feel each beat of her gentle heart.
Yet though she sleeps,tears of pain flow from her eyes.
A withered soul,
Who mourns for days of sunshine and smiles.
She is my dark beauty, my sleeping sorrow.
Her pain is a vice around my dying heart,
That weeps for her.

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