My Soul Is Teething For Your Love
'When will you adopt my heart?
Like a child in its cradle.
I am like a green flower plucked'.
Dehydrating; on an evening's vigil.
'My soul is teething for your love,
Hunger fills my every desire
There cut; in need of sustenance'.
To sustain the ambiance of fire!
poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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