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You can feel her, burning in your veins,
Holding you down with titanic chains.
She’s everywhere, at all the turns.
For her touch, your body burns.
And yet you let her, despite the pains

Upon your body, her silhouette reigns.
You’re losing the war, your self-control wanes.
Despite your efforts your body yearns.
You can feel her.

You’ve tried and tried, but she remains.
No bleeding her out, no bleaching the stains.
She’s in your body and your concerns.
When you think she’s gone, she returns.
Why, you ask, but your body explains,
You can feel her.
©2006-2009 ~MirrorToMyself
:iconmirrortomyself:

Author's Comments

This is my first attempt at a rondeau. I liked the sound of this type of poem so I tried to write one. Google rondeau, the poem's structure is really cool. I got the idea after watching Underworld Evolution and listening to Atreyu's "Her Portrait in Black".

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:iconechosilencer:
hmm, the form seems interesting, i might try one even though i truly detest end-rhyme.

--
"Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,"
From: Philip Larkin's "Aubade"
:iconmirrortomyself:
its not really all that bad. i love the rondeau. try a sedoka then. theyre cool too.

--
My hope was found when I left you in your darkest moment.

Details

November 10, 2006
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