You are my mortal weakness,
my single fatal flaw.
But is it really my own fault?
the people I adore.
I've suffered long
and bled a lot
under arrows blows
and yet you stay the greatest prize
the queen of both my eyes.
Love, you are a sickness,
infesting in my mind.
Your cancers wrapped about my heart,
and tighter grow the binds.....
Monday, July 20, 2009
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