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Poem: Philophobia

Reading is a series of human emotions. Writing is the gift of sharing these emotions.


Eight years of solitude through night and day
In an average room of no colors but grey
Such long confinement in one’s emotion
In need of anything but affection

When sparks befall for a gentleman,
Fear begins, connection ends
This curse put forth by the donkey’s years
Betrayed, forsaken and full of tears

To feel comes swiftly, to love’s not feasible
Desire’s untainted, the heart’s incapable
A romantic soul that loves shall give bliss
For a philophobic, it is absolute fear

© 2019 Shey Saints

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