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A love poem from a comb to his very heart-kept partner: Hair.


Submitted:May 15, 2013    Reads: 9    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


How I miss the days

Of caressing your beauty,

My fine teeth stroking

Each of your silky hairs.

Every massage never in vain;

My attention as firm as a diamond

In those splendid times of glory.

Now you lust for other combs

And they grant pleasure in return;

But who can blame them?

Can't they see the divine allurement

You oh so naturally possess?

Blindness itself cannot obstruct such

God given grace from wanting eyes.

Befor I retire

In my poem of praise,

I will leave your conscience

A final message.

No matter where you go,

Or how many forevers you are gone;

I will always love and cherish you

More than God himself.

Whether you are blonde, brunette,

And everything in between;

My desire for you will never

Decay.

So I sit here on this ebony dresser

Full of icy loneliness,

Waiting, even past the day I die

To live to see our souls meet once more.





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