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Rated: E · Poetry · None · #2354433

Perhaps a stab at identity?

][ fool myself into sublimity, this cavity will un-
fold, butter(f/l)ies, blissful moments named, a-
bandoned in my magical tongue, a half-
re-membered caress stitching me to-
gether, through the mirror still re-
fusing who is stand-
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