On a frigid weather
I still remember
That night in December
When you gave me your scarlet letter.Your cold skin touched mine
And your lips taste like red wine.
In your hands, I'll die-
See those eyes like a cherry pie.We used to ride
Outside the city where we died.
We left our souls on the meadow
And danced all along beneath the willows.Your cold hand touched my face-
The wind blows and untangles our lace.
Now you're gone, my love
And free as a white dove.
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Reinvention: A Comprehensive Metamorphosis Of A Young Adult (Anthology II)
PoetryHe found himself in an old lair, there, he reinvented and followed the dry trail.