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Click hereForgiveness is a fragrance violets shed,
If they are crushed to pulp, when we're above
And press down on them, fucking in our bed
Of olent flora. These are things we love,
Intimately: contact will make the dew
Flow from broken stems, watering the earth
With euodic tears. Amours renew
And are intoxicated by rebirth
Of veiled feelings, that, once, were lost in mist;
We've swept the dawn away and never cease
Our tender love-making. It's not so triste:
We can enjoy this suaveolent feast;
We'll feed the muscadine caress, which plants
Forgiveness with a scent: violet fragrance.