My heart is but a thousand words, and yet none I have yet to understand.
A perfect hand has touched it once, but perfection is all but planned.
If cupids bow meets cupids wing, then all should be upheld.
For time is but a waisted breath and wasited hands impelled.
For my heart is but alive and free and birds shall rest upon it, for angels hair and eyes and lips shall bless this key, divine it.
COMMENTS
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