The Picture
The eyes of this dead lady speak to me, For here was love, was not to be drowned out. And here desire, not to be kissed away. The eyes of this dead lady speak to me.
PoetryVerse
PoetryVerse
The eyes of this dead lady speak to me, For here was love, was not to be drowned out. And here desire, not to be kissed away. The eyes of this dead lady speak to me.
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