I feel it as in frigid arctic cold, whiff air or sunrise sol.

I feel it as in my soul,  as it feels in my character.

I feel it, not as for the very first time, or the second time

But rather as when it is meaningful

When it is significant

When it is paramount

I’m sorry, my penitent to you

I’m shamefaced a million times

Melted for love, contrite for you

My imprison to full love is cruel.

 

 

 

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