CJ ( / )

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Crickets sing
To a black night.
In an onyx sky,
Stars shine bright.
Darkness holds
Such bliss and delight-
And ebony orgasmic
Rush at twilight.

Your lips couldn't taste as sweet
At an earlier hour
Nor could your seducing eyes
Have such power.
In the light of day,
Being in your arms would seem sour
Compared to this time
Of a night-blooming flower.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Annabel Lee

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