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Introverted

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Such simple pleasures I prefer

Than reckless love and desire.

The sound of bird’s call is moving

But It cannot break you’re heart.

I prefer the simple feel of things

Rather than the feel of a lover’s skin,

A rabbit’s fur is soft and pleasing,

But it cannot leave you drained at its absence.

Such simple words I prefer,

Than the words of another’s longing lips,

Impersonal words may be cold, and temperate,

But never as cold as the smoke blown cold death of a fire.

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