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May 2016
There’s a moon like sunrise in her
Glass clouded obsidian eyes
That twinkle like jewel dew
Drops clinging to wind branches.
Yes you:
An essence under Sunday rainfall.

There was a lack of being until the conclusion:
A murmuration in the night and the water
In the glass and the ship that was slowly sinking.
You sang a serenade.
Written by
Worldeater  Somewhere in space.
(Somewhere in space.)   
   Lot, Cecelia Francis and ryn
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