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Barometric pressure & true love (The prince of storms) (Villanelle) by Jeremi B. Handrinos

Your love has yet to keep me warm. Still I breathe to be your votive. There will be no calm before this storm. I am your one, I am your swarm. A murderer with no motive. Your love has yet to keep me warm. The prince-amoral-Jeremiad-dorm has not a roof or bed to give. There will be no calm before this storm. Yet to claim you meant no harm? Yes, denial is instinctive. Your love has yet to keep me warm. A foul weather sweater with no right arm. Your gift of love, thanks for the sieve. There will be no calm before this storm. Some day soon you'll lose that charm. What you did to me you'll then relive. Since your love will never keep warm. There will be no calm before the storm.

Brittanyy 4-Jul-04/6:07 PM
I don't know why anyone would give this poem anything below a ten. Very good.




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