Sweeping
past gifts I've been given,
I think of what could have been. Nobody knows the tight spaced
wedge
I gasp for precious, abandoned
air
propelled by desire,
Where I am alone and…
secluded by dark, …the luminous dark. My special friend. Where I am superman,
where I can hear a whisper whisper
I ease back into stalagmites
of pain
glowing like the heat of night... immersed, ...in luminous dark. |
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