Past glances' remit trembles the little air
that hangs there still in the dull stare of sorrow.
A popish fear moderates every rising feeling
that soothes the many with an okay feeling;
more candy is made for the happy children
then between friends when enemies are made.
That faith renewed seeks a smiling future
where she isn't. No, not a speck of her.
But I see what we were, my weddinged love,
before I was sucked up into the pull from above.
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