Fin de siecle
Unhappy friend, if just pretend, pity my desire,
And i shall wake in cherry-red haze.
And gaze upon your blossomed smile,
And rest my heart upon yours awhile.
And yet my dream holds no happiness,
For that smile that blossomed is now wilted.
And your touch so warm, does now warm another,
And your eye’s that danced now lay stilted.
Truth be told i shake with bitter chill,
That henceforth you shall remain,
In my dream, for today and ever still.
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