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Aug 2012
He had a charm like the forest,
wet and murky
it could pull you under
like quicksand.

And like a simple reed,
I was part of him
not wholly insignificant
but expendable.

I would look on shyly,
as kaleidoscopes of grey-green mist
filtered through his underbrush
and finally encompassed me.

To fill one’s lungs
with his marsh-water
would be foolish,
yet divine.
Marina Rose
Written by
Marina Rose
       Lioninsunheart and Sarah Jeanne Adkins
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