deepundergroundpoetry.com
On The Tip Of A Needle
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Nothing left but a touch and sigh
An open wound of cherished anguish
Tearing down the laughter, kindly
Dragging out all my sincere tenderness
I fall upon my knees and call
Waiting for the answer, ever waiting
That tight lipped curve of happiness
A drop of love could warm my bones
So cold and bitter they've become
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