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And, Yet

love, state of infatuation, deepening resonation of soul and mind, and yet sorrow, a stream of steady tears, bitter thoughts anchored to the possibility of never ending eternity. Mending heavy hearts fraught with sullen dreams and brooding discomforts generates a simple thought and yet sowing back frayed seams and wiping fallen tears unwinds what once one sought. Filtered contentment, believing in what is already known, condemning thoughts of seas tinged crimson or trees adorned in silk and yet enlightenment, mellifluous sagacity, prodding into deep caverns of wisdom. Blindly blubbering they call out flippant remarks to which no answer can be heard and yet uttering godly virtues bring speculations deemed absurd. Anger, state of indignation, flared nostrils, glances of vexation and yet, longing, yearning, fingers barely grazing, fulfillment a mere dream. Conquering fiends of turpitude from within is no easy feat and yet, reaching out to touch the sun will leave you scorched from searing heat. Silence, unspoken words, everlasting taciturnity and yet, Laughter, frivolous throaty chuckles, boisterous guffaws. Quietly she ponders, hushed whispers flitter in the wind and yet flamboyant pulchritude, the trilling of sweet hymns leave lips morose and frostbitten, as though they might have sinned.



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