Bliss
You never saw her dreams,
The way she wished it was cut clean
The nights she longed for truth,
And any sort of proof.
So she sits and has this debate,
Whether in the end she'll love or hate?
And as she thought and thought,
Her heart by pain was wrought.
Until arrived that faithful day,
Where she gained the courage to finally say,
"I missed your silly crazy plays
Even early as the months of may."
She thought perhaps she'd long again,
Instead the healing of a heart began.
Those words had set her free,
Left her willing to believe.
That even without that gentle kiss,
Or the sweetest touch she dearly missed.
Her life would once again be bliss.
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