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Romantic

Isn't it romantic

how the chrysalids land on the ice cubes

in our drink to wink

with sunlight and time

for the dawning double blind


Isn't it romantic

how wings unborn

are worn to be torn

from our aesthetic interpretation


Isn't it romantic

that we should be so kind as to blind

as to bind each other

belieing bespeak betraying


Isn't it romantic

that we should drink such potion to spite

foreknowledge of death

innate insecurity feigning


Isn't it romantic

how the oils shift smudge to smear coupling

seething suppling searing

precious delicate contours


How I miss your words

tender as tobacco

[...] Read more

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