mornings i wait
there must be some placein dreams that hinges you to fantasyperpetuating your sleepfor a time you cannot tellbut i canand count the hours in my greedy consciousnesswhat locks you to such visionsthat...
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felt. especially like this quote: but I canand count the hoursin my greedy consciousnessdosePoet.
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it seems to me there is a twist at the end--the poem seems narrator-centered until focusing on 'you,' implying jealously and impatience that dreams and fantasy are taking away time with that 'you'very...
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this is so romantic, and renaissance. very renaissance. you're good at that, my love. sorry i missed this first time around.
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