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So this may mean, my sweet, that the fever is over
No need to look back and exhale
Our sighs over coffee and cigarettes.

Fever is poison, my sweet,
Letting the mind wander and forget.
We've been together,
You and I, bodies unite;
Baby, you soul enveloping mine;
Temperatures rise,
Boiling blood in the kettle,
Lighting candles bundles by bundles;
Words fondled by words,
Drowned softly in strained rapture;
Various feelings played and displayed,
And splayed arms strayed from mile to mile;
Hearts raced
But embraced
In a kaleidiscopic haze.

But that was before.

Now, you and I just listen to scarce breaths
In slow rhythms,
Hear the radio hum lovers' delights
Toiled briefly on midnights and midmornings.
The heart grows cold,
Singing songs of the wrongs;
Bleached throngs of pain
And so ready to cry in the rain.

Fever, my sweet, is poison,
And goodbyes have reasons
But, oh, so bittersweet!


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The following comments are for "Pitch"
by Lasher

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