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The promethean draw of winter stars new leaves bathed in twinkling lights hung by the low-slung Moon sweet, love-sick pearl called by the Sea and unable to answer-- You roll the clouds in waves across the sky cloaking yourself when it is too painful for him to see what he cannot hold.
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Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 10:57 PM UTC
Poema XIX
The promethean draw of winter stars new leaves bathed in twinkling lights hung by the low-slung Moon sweet, love-sick pearl called by the Sea and unable to answer-- You roll the clouds in waves across the sky cloaking yourself when it is too painful for him to see what he cannot hold.
elaenor-aisling
Written by
27/F/American
Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 10:57 PM UTC
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