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contrast of times

Heaviness draws its quilted blanket Over my dreary eyes Fire that does not burn, a need Consumes my chest, my head, my thighs As the sigh within my breast brings out a darker note - A note that serves as the anchor to my night-ballad. Like a huge bell it rings Slow and steady as the wind sighs its harmony And my soul tries to sing along. A slow steady march of a determined sleep. … Conscious again Smolder’d remains Growing pains Slowly rise Moans escape Warmth away Cold sensations Reach the floor Still weary Light reaches eyes Squint It’s morning.
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Written by
kristin-easler
Published
Apr 28, 2011
Lines·Words
30·101
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