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Apr 2019
An image of that glowing future
hangs, ominous, from the ceiling
fixture.
I see you there, gold plated principles
drawn on the arm's breadth,
Fiery tattooed stubbornness.

God, how I love you.

In your voice is the blue of dusk-
sun's rays still warm on pavement.
But it tastes like Buckley's in the mouth.
Dreams of your vibrant spirit fade to grey.
I caress a vision of another's face.
Sydney Bittner
Written by
Sydney Bittner  21/F
(21/F)   
  270
     DivineDao, Colm and Mystic River
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