Tainted Green

March 20, 2011
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His laughter cuts through me
As though my heart to bestill
Beautiful and taunting is its trill
And haunts me as though he can see

I find my unruly thoughts to be
As they try as ever to become my will
To act as a sweeping chill
As powerful and all-consuming as the sea

Yet I know not how to cope
With such as frightening as these
But to forsake is to perish
Still I know not to hope
So mine heart is as longing as her kiss
And shall never be his to cherish

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