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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Spiritual >> ID #1060722 |   |
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fast like razors
gold-dipped, dripping with every right thing to say old like music in round, blunt-edged tongues like rolled, eroded stones broad like sunrise sneaky, slick little pink hands slipping up, then arms of flame, prism nimbus, and then the white-blind raptured smile
© Copyright 2006 aquaviann (UN: aquaviann at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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