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A March dusk blotted stale bodies; jet-black water ran thick with puerile inks and imparted abandon. Head shrouded in cobalt mist, night idled by a black pane that rang dull and flat. Backtracking rooks caught the vacant eye: threading a monarchical purple cloak to hoard the transient days.

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Written by

thomas-gabriel-1

Published: Mar 2, 2012
LinesWords: 1448

Notes: Goodness, i need to be more creative with these titles!

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