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My Moribund Heart
My moribund heart dies more every day;
You are the mate for my soul, in every way
That I may imagine, or aspire-
You fulfill my every eartly desire!
I wish that you would love me, like you used to-
It is already in your heart, should you choose to
Listen, you may find it easy to get used to me;
Only if you allow it, may it be as it used to be-
Only with your heart and eyes wide open, do you choose to see,
What it is we may be, when we refuse to be
Anything but that which we choose to be;
This may be, only when we see, as we used to see-
With eyes that allowed our muse to be
Each other-this is how we used to see!
-Maurice Harris,8 August 2011
poem
by
Maurice Harris
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