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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Past
Poem Info
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The past it is dead
Gone
A specter vanished.
It's tendril fingers
Reaching
Drawing us back
He to a lost love
Vanished
Into a Martyrs shroud.
Her to a time pasted
Bound
Pleasure turned to Horror
They meet in the present
As Shadows
To comfort and guide
No earthly form
To deceive
Only outstretched hands to aid
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