Love is out of my reach;
Ever so fragile in these mortal hands,
the eternal warmth that it imbues.
Love is a longing of me;
Ever so curious about the touch of her hand,
the comfort that I would feel.
Love is but a dream to me;
Fantisizing about the joy of her persence,
caress her hair.
Love is that eternal race;
‘May the best men win’ they say,
and win they do.
Love is the good friend of envy;
Scheming and deviously planning how to…
how to take her all for me!
Love however, is out of reach,
the failure purely being me,
a pushover, a brat, an irritating rat…
That is and will always be
ME!
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Hello,
You’ve probably heard this a million times before, but I’ll say it – You write very well. I stumbled upon your blog, and it’s a pleasant surprise to find such a well-versed young author, especially one from my own country.
Do keep it up, and I’m looking forward to your future posts! In the meantime, I have all the old ones buried in your archive to enjoy. All the best to you!
Amanda