A/N: I came up with this while browsing through photos of benches. Weird, I know...
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Beneath the vibrant, hazy light
Of dusk, I sit alone --
As lonely as the coming night,
Too sad to journey home.
YOU ARE READING
Read my Eyes
Poetry“The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, and tells a tale it never feels; deceit the guilty lips impart, and hush the mandates of the heart; but soul’s interpreters, the eyes, spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.” (Lord Byron) Probe mine. Tell...
