Passion blooms like an orchid in a hothouse,
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Tender still amid the heat of a uneven sun.
The path of lovers bisect yet remain in sync,
Innocent recollections glow with sapphire desire.
Hearts throb audibly as the miles separate the reality,
Invisible embraces stir and impress a cobalt sky.
A cerulean moon sadly cries out and wails a sorrowful yearning,
An aching need to sense her loverís slow caress.
Bereavement of a coupling not fully realized,
Of an existence and ardor not wholly breathed.
A comprehending not fated for this indigo existence,
Passion destined for another place, another time.