

in bed with poetryReading a badly written poetry is like waking up with a stranger in bed. Until recently, I had not the slightest inkling that my previous poems were peppered with vague ideas worsened by poor word choice; I felt uneasy after rereading them, quite like how an alcohol-induced rush may backfire only a day after. They seriously need some repair. Im not even taking poetic license as an excuse. I should atone for committing what I consider a literary crime. It may be less serious than plagiarism, but if I want to save my love affair with poetry, I should seriously consider rewriting them now that I have the luxury of time. Doing sin bed with poetry
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... on my lap. ©
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... on my lap. ©
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You are the opposite of kitsch... or so I thought.
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life is beautiful & fragile...
My Gallery - ~micoi
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they wondered at her...
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... on my lap. ©
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You are the opposite of kitsch ... or so I thought.
Anchel... wee..
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... on my lap. ©
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You are the opposite of kitsch ... or so I thought.
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... on my lap. ©
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