Dost thine eyes recoil?
Wait, for her arm curls in anger
Hold
Thine face is ripe with the mortal blow
Recoil
She hast driven the spike of cupids lust for thou
Dost thine eyes recoil?
Dost her smell waft easily into the pool of red be specklement that was once your yobbish flame?
Nay, for thine is the Heart that never heals
Thine is the vagabond of legend.
For the post that hast whipped many a maiden into frenzy lies dormant
Still
En Passant
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3 comments:
you're on FIRE!!!
Ren and I have found that the 'poem' works best if you whisper the 'En Passant' to yourself.
Ha! Joe I can't wait to give you a chess beating of a lifetime! "D" is f-n killing me over here and I gotta whup some ass to feel good about myself again!
Nice words.:)
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