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troubling nights spent underneath
clouded moons, solemn in act and
vulgar in word. a night spent
with a flower; ripping petals
off - one, two, three. one,
two, three. one, two. white
and yellow flowers blossom in
a field of effervescent dandelions,
blooming, wilting, blooming, wilting,
a constant, repetitive death and life
cycle of never ending birth and decay.
siren calls from underneath the violet
ocean, singing a song of forlorn and
distrust. sailors plunge to their death
and plunge to their lust, a final farewell
to their lives and wives. flowers put between
hands, arms, body and satin, inside of a
black coffin, the goddess, she sleeps.
in, out, in, out. the breath of a thousand
lovers, shared between strangled cries of
the lonely few who never find the one that
share their heart. lost inside of their own
ignorance, lust-filled lovers are lifted from their
perches and set onto a veil of self-importance.
they forget those, they forget us, they forget me.
they are lost within, they are lost forever, they are lost together,
in bliss.
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