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Illusion

Her Autumn kiss, unmerciful formed.. from eager mouth it's imprint, fading miles, from where it left. This fragile night's illusion creates.. his distant wakening protective, of the lover and the power.. of each other

When the storm, overtakes

Horizon.. gone her instinct, raw the quickened press, of palms to ravishings.. of rain her lips, imbibe an innocence swallowing.. the chaste. Stand.. in the illusion deflecting, off your skin. On broody days it's all you can face when the storm, overtakes

Poet Noir

Your crime: the shift.. of distance. A written slope a heartbeat, dared. The theft of crossing.. a moral line. So Strike the match. Stoke your words. Then Watch them flicker and breathe ...beneath her papery bones.

All... or none

Time.. shapes our identity it mounts up, over our core        while stars                 burn on above. Our souls.. grew roots our lives, drip scent. We... are all, or none. We cannot turn            from each other's love

A blush.. upon a spine

Sundown, through a rusted branch surrender.. streaks the pane the threshold, to a silhouette a blush.. upon a spine. She'll bargain, with the cosmos a night of words.. unbarred some sips of red the spirit flees her ghost.. shut loose inside

Plainness

I shell, within myself as Language.. veils my plainness words, disguised in poem from kissed, misspoken themes. I've bordered                 on that hum how love, flows over time and safe.. feels like a rain release. I'll wish, upon the dusk for hearts.. that seek

Pretender

Often days.. she's reeling in a soul, that holds no order a snowbird.. spent in roots         or a cloud, beneath the water. Yet somedays.. she's the ultimate pretender dancing in a tick, of white surrender

Lemon-shade

When soft.. feels like a target I hide, in shadow's sound safe, within             this lemon-shade a passenger.. of change. Altered, in the aftermath         I can't walk back, through time-lapse doors to what I was... before

Apparitions

I owe, a force around me I'm unfit.. to profess where debt, had it's beginning and words fell, in between. I trust the sighs, of universe and Apparitions, on a limb           the closer the touch... the nearer the language is

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