THE INTIMACY OF STRANGERS
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Through perfection I breathe
Reality gives me reasons to forget some truth, all truth. Nobility of words Intoxicate my being Sentiments cry sound and gentle on the forgotten bed. The world of idealism- Embracing nothingness and making love to it It pokes my skin, my senses It makes me bleed with love and forgiveness. Daniela 10-10-02 Vote for this poem
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