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Each heart Is a spinneret Her threads Woven Into an aortal retinue A glistening floss Iced white by the sun. And each soul A strand And each strand A connection And each connection Luridly stretching for miles. No trowel can break This web And though the stands are different Between your web and mine They were spun by love And because I love you What is dear to your heart Is dear to mine.
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
The Web
Each heart Is a spinneret Her threads Woven Into an aortal retinue A glistening floss Iced white by the sun. And each soul A strand And each strand A connection And each connection Luridly stretching for miles. No trowel can break This web And though the stands are different Between your web and mine They were spun by love And because I love you What is dear to your heart Is dear to mine.
Written by
Irish
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
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