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Her
Julianne Lace May 2017
Her
Graceful locks dance down the curvature of her shoulders,
She speaks and it sounds of the hollow winds,
Echoing through the chambers of my heart as a chorus of angels,
She makes me so violently want to sin.

Galaxies dance around the edges of her eyes,
But in the sky all I see are the empty milky stars
Harmonies flow forth in unrepentant bursts
Only she knows what slate mountains caused these scars.

— The End —