She wants to move in.
I've snuffed out a candle flame,
Pricked my thumb with a pin,
It's still incredible all the same.
Off the floor, the carpets rolled up,
No tract seems likely to sink;
The walls, rid of the paper make-up,
Haven't a sore gash, or chink.
The roof tiles, firm, not friable,
The skirting sans moisture;
The pillars, sturdy and reliable
To uphold the doting posture.
Yet, what of the weighty base?
I've to delve into its core design;
What if it awakens to efface,
My heart, and her in her shrine.
The pillars, sturdy and reliable
To uphold the doting posture.
Yet, what of the weighty base?
I've to delve into its core design;
What if it awakens to efface,
My heart, and her in her shrine.
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