#pfc1

Trying to work is pointless

For these thoughts of you are ruthless

Ever so constant,

And incredibly persistent

My heart doth stammer

With the beat heavy of thine hammer

The thought of..

Your fingers interlaced with mine,

Like a tree covered in vine

The thought of lips on lips

I had searched for love in the crypts

When your love had been so near,

And ever so crystal clear

I cannot work when these thoughts run rampant,

And I shall not try to stop thinking of this skit

Though you might not think it,