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63 words 63 words
Published 1 month ago
With a sweet ardor of rose

and a thorn I compose

the sting, the salt, the blood

of ink's concubine

deep in shadows of the equinox

in the vine's divinity of breath

a delirious shade of twilight

with hallucinations in the dark crypt

then a dream's deep sleep

of opium's green eyes

with shades whispering volumes

from the halls of my mind's portmanteau

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