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I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink d
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Amy Lowell:
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.Amy Lowell:
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