Her heart wrenches in anticipation.How can one person,Make her yearn so badly?I admire your kindness and gentleness,But I don't thinkYou'd want someone like me.All I'll bring you is disappointment.
I can feel those fingers,Long and bony.This is just my imagination.I'm still lonely.I can feel the madnessOf being alone.My voice insideIs losing every tone.
The dampness of the rain,Gives off such a wonderful smell.It brings the girl such bliss,As she sits in the window,Watching traffic go by.It's like her feelings are reflectedIn the Ohio weather.Sometimes happy, but rainy most days,Bipolar.She thinks, "drip drip drop,"As the slow, yet calming rain falls.
I know I'm not perfect,But who in this world is?I was never an object.I was never "his".In this world,We believe we have too much skin.It's like being uniqueIs some sort of sin.I was your sin,You never cared about me.I was completely different,And you hated my personality.I was your toy,Until you got a new one.It's hard for me to admit,But you've actually won.
Jolt of market-carts ;Steady drip of horses' hoofs on hard pavement ;A black sky lacquered over with blueness,And the lights of Battersea BridgePricking pale in the dawn.The beautiful hours are passingAnd still you sleep !Tired heart of my joy.Incurved upon your dreams.Will the day come before you have opened to me ?
One Life of so much Consequence!Yet I -- for it -- would pay --My Soul's entire income --In ceaseless -- salary --One Pearl -- to me -- so signal --That I would instant dive --Although -- I knew -- to take it --Would cost me -- just a life!The Sea is full -- I know it!That -- does not blur my Gem!It burns -- distinct from all the row --Intact -- in Diadem!The life is thick -- I know it!Yet -- not so dense a crowd --But Monarchs -- are perceptible --Far down the dustiest Road!
Come, my Celia, let us proveWhile we may the sports of love;Time will not be ours forever,He at length our good will sever.Spend not then his gifts in vain;Suns that set may rise again,But if once we lose this light,'Tis with us perpetual night.Why should we defer our joys?Fame and rumour are but toys.Cannot we delude the eyesOf a few poor household spies?Or his easier ears beguile,So removed by our wile?'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;But the sweet theft to reveal,