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Poetry Old Lovers who have Young Kids

The World Between the Words
<<feeling thoroughly inspired by @出久 (izuku) and @Hannah Flover and Lovers>>

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Old Lovers who have Young Kids
This flame of ours will never die​
Because we have learned to feed it​
Flame eats the truth that we don't lie​
About something when we need it​
Because we have learned to feed it​
To share ourselves and freely scream​
About something when we need it​
To join ourselves in love's deep seam​
To share ourselves and freely scream​
When time again we don't have time​
To join ourselves in love's deep seam​
A stolen kiss is still sublime​
When time again we don't have time​
Flame eats the truth that we don't lie​
A stolen kiss is still sublime​
This flame of ours will never die​

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[gently edited in search of clarity]
 
Last edited:
Hmm. I don't think I nailed it. It's the first time I've used this form, and looking at it this morning it feels messy.
 
And now I've gone and edited it a bit. Among other things, I punctuated it; then deleted the punctuation; then put it back; then deleted it again.

Dither, dither, dither.

I think it's time for a cup of tea and something new to work on. What's the expression? A poem is never finished, only abandoned.
 
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