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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2061725
Words on a prison made of beautiful jewels.
under the savory blue we lay;
from clouds like synths
playing high

beyond them another awaits;
the myths know no end of days,
no pause, no self-reflection,
no attunement lest it be spoken

your eyes, never an end to mine
flutter tirelessly drunk in mirrors;
must it ever be true
all as lovers at first sight?
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