The profession you did.
When you whispered in my ear.
That blistered my heart.
Was a confession.
Of the passion we once had.
That ended like a session.
The impression you left.
On this face that my pressure.
To find a fresh start.
Looking for new flesh.
To replenish my soul.
That was left foul.
From your memories.
Friday, July 3, 2009
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