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CRIMSON TEARS
Silken is the rose, with black repoire.
Crying from it's pores, are crimson tears.
Distance is it's Sin, with you to adore.
As we explore, the metallic taste.
Pulling your soul within, weeping is the crimson haste.
A black rose to praise, as souls entwine.
Darkness is the race, of the silken rose.
wonderful poetry lady V.
keep it coming.
such a magical poetry thread.