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To whom the mornings are like nights,
What must the midnights be!
-- Emily Dickinson (on hacking?)
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet--
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do
🚗 -- 🌋 -- 👽 -- 📘 -- 🎁 -- 🌏 -- 📗 -- 💛 -- 💗 -- 👹 -- 👾 -- 😺 -- ⛳ -- 🚙 -- 👑
✭✏ٿ✤ wonderful game! 📒🎁 🎽🌋
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║░▒║ Give money or get shanked.
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