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Quixotic

Our love proliferated like a wind arrow
And we hate Narcissism to its level
My myopic eyes gather clouds of love
You exacting behaviour puts dusk before me
Grew with an acrid taste;It was harsh again
To be oblivious is to be forgetful or unaware
Wipe out the mutual rancor among idle souls.

Are we making love,tonight !
Written by mcjay
Published
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