Words daunting, expressing, haunting.
Passion terrifies. Love, does it die?
Yes, argue some. In his arms, though, I am home.
My love, he will forever remain. The pain I carry, my bane.
Actions, emotions, feelings torn asunder.
My heart, like treasure, was there for the plunder.
Empty the chest sits, vacant, waiting.
Hoping for one day to be no more aching.
Far in the future, his memory won’t haunt, but delight.
As love, lost, but always held on to dear, tight.
For though we are apart, you are near to my heart.
And I know that forever you will be my muse, my love, my heart.
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