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a mahogany desk houses the letter you sent
a year ago, sleeping under a blanket of dust...
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Skies are so grey.
It is pouring inside out...
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you are a constant. you are light. you are
a wellspring of hope. you are on the cusp...
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is it the madness of the
artist who is fueled by...
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picture this –
you are bound to her...
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Daisies surround the bluebells
as green swallows the whole field...
-
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What it means to bloom -
something akin to adoration...
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It’s quiet, but it’s not quiet enough.
She’s listening...
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Inharmonic sounds
caressed by whispering breeze...
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I strangely found my pen
scratching against some papers...
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I see how fate
molds into...
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Music
Underestimates...