Passive Torment

A Poem by E.L. Debbage

Brushed fingers; soft hands;

nervous shakes, through which honest

answers may be heard -

or ignored, like the

insane love, weaved through my soul;

never to be clasped.

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diamond or dust will a souls love turn into if clasped too tight?

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Added on August 10, 2015
Last Updated on August 10, 2015

Hi, I write a lot of poetry most of which is probably garbage more..

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