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In Search of Ideal
You are the cloak that keeps me warm at night,
quenches my thirst and eases my spite.
Please, cease you not to hold me tight,
and we shall never lose for as long as we fight.
With the first drop of desire acquired at birth
I have sought out love's arms to immerse me in mirth,
but never had I found that place in this earth
until I laid on the floor beside your sweet hearth.
When opposition arises, with whom will you side?
When they gather their forces, will you abide?
Will you stay and defend me, or in cowardice, hide?
And when you sleep in your grave, with whom have you died?
To me, these emotions are perfectly surreal
but I can't help but wonder: the same, do you feel?
The love in my soul's inexplicably ideal,
so know that I'll try with all my patience and zeal.
I've known many women, as, I'm sure, you've known men,
but now is incomparable to the trials of then.
Of the 6 billion alive I've yet to find ten
that I could bear to hold more as than simply a friend.
So what makes me think that, for you, I'll be more?
How can I know you're who I'm searching for?
Can I be certain not to tire and bore?
I pray you are one I might ever adore.
So, now, as the end of this poem is nigh,
in your palms, catch my tears, and breathe love to my sigh.
Pour your stream into mine before my waters run dry;
let my dreams be fulfilled and I'll peacefully die.
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