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The sacred silent solitude
In a crowded, noisy room,
The petals coloured shades of grey
On a flower in full bloom,
The icy cold chills to the bone
Beneath the burning sun,
The world is not as it could be
With no "special someone"

The jumbled noise and loud dischord
Of a brilliant symphony,
The mattress cold and hard as stone
On the soft bed under me,
The simple pleasures I ignore,
Don't see though they abound,
This world is empty, cold and dark
When my love's not around.