hopes to me now are no more than a dying sun
so scarce for me a love that loves another one
with each grace in the world you bring
there's not an emptier song that i could sing...
...if my hand is not nestling in yours
if my sands are not laying in your shores
i have never wanted anything i couldn't have as much as this
as how a crescent moon awaits a perfect full
alas, time to me proves to be no less than cruel
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
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