Senses XVIII: Delightfully Heart Sore

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My heart is sore and my eyes are tired,
My blood is boiling at 212 Fahrenheit,
My veins are branching out with all its might,
while my body is convulsing with so much fright
As your hands land on my skin again tonight,
I’d dream of the very first time I have seen you psyched
At the way I have desired you to conquer my light
while the moon mocks me with so much delight.

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DP (1)

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