My Dear

Your lips bright red,

Your eyes bright brown,

Your hands as cold as ice.

Your silky hair in my grasp,

Yet you’re still just out of sight.

That spark we had went out,

The fire would not spread.

Our lives to different, far apart,

We were not meant for bed.

Yet still I wonder deep at night,

If the clouds had cleared our sight,

Would our lives be better anyways?

My dear, my dear, my dear.

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