I knew a young woman,
Beautiful and fair,
Plush to the eyes,
I had met none like her,
She left a saccharine taste in my mouth,
Felt never like that.

I know a young woman,
She fills more than half my heart,
I peruse,
A plethora of memoirs,
She looks back,
I see all the pain I caused her.

For a season,
Her little hands melted in mine,
For a reason,
Our eyes don’t meet anymore,
Treason against love,
I knew a young woman that died for me,
And I’ve died for, times over.

– Smyekh David-West.


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