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Poetry by C. Eve

I am the First Eve.

August 25, 2017March 6, 2018

Wasted

They are both drunk and
she never sleeps.
She wanted him against the pillows.
Struggling, he didn’t seem to know
he was so cold.
She could see things.
His heart,
brilliant and complex,
knew she waited
for love, like medicine.

Posted in Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTagged c.eve, ceve, poem, poet, poetry, shadowofeve, thefirsteve, writingBy shadowofeve

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