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Eloquent Hell

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Poem XXXI

these words composed in solitude
prove that we exist and more
they are the current that flows
in the sky of our love
the wind that clears the clouds
the breeze that carries your scent
And the whisper of my voice
(listen)
to your ear.
Posted by Douglas Matus at 3:22 PM

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Blog Archive

  • ►  2010 (42)
    • ►  July (1)
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    • ▼  March (44)
      • Poem XLVII
      • Poem XLVI
      • Poem XLV
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      • Poem XLIII
      • Poem XLII
      • Poem XLI
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      • Poem XXXIX
      • Poem XXXVIII
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      • Poem XXXV
      • Poem XXXIV
      • Poem XXXIII
      • Poem XXXII
      • Poem XXXI
      • Poem XXX
      • Poem XXIX
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      • Poem IX
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