🖋..｜DOUCE—BLUM'S｜soon

A poem & poetry ; begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. : Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time. Thy love is such I can no way repay.           

Love is a fire that burns unseen, a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,  an always discontent contentment, a pain that rages without hurting.

The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,  that when we live no more, we may live ever. ── Love, DOUCE—BLUM'S.