February 22, 2010

Let this night pass with all its certainties
Of fevered tasks and dreams and wanted pleas.
So long as love has measured recompense
For loss of faulty simple innocence
Then let the world continue in revolt
And let the edges of your thoughts be smote
For time has come for prisoners to convict
With tears that spring with honest smitten wit
By love for soft and prattling gentle rain
The chatter of the angels in disdain

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I hate you poetry


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