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Saturday, January 15, 2005
poem / 4:23 PM

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: i was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

He's like this really cool poet. This is part of a poem.


/ believe in wonderland,
with you in my mind
it's not that hard to believe
i'm in wonderland
and that's where I am
only a place to where we know
and never escape into reality
plunge into a fantasy

just about my love



remembered as legend
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