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Dark Music

Often lately, after he is spent

And I drift, abandoned in the dark,

I conjure you back, through the open door

Of my restless mind,

Where, in unison with my strong digits

Your spirit fingers flash like fishes

To strum and pick my viscous pearl,

Until our mashed limbs thrash, like boats on a wave,

And the rough dark music swells, to fill

All the colours of the dark.

 

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