the tattered string,
the forsaken night
and the trembling
staccato of
ten thousand winters
that take me
to your altar,
abandoning all
understanding
of sorrow,
only to
levitate toward
a harder
mistake.
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and the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
i should have been a pair of ragged claws.
i hope the exit is joyful and i hope never to return.
1 comments:
hehe...hi coachie..wowwww...so deep..
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