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Feb 2019
Where is that amicable child now -
Running with scissors towards the summer to cut the sun down
Like a dazzled godhead balloon out
Towards a vast cosmology carved of orchards (to lay and die in, cradled in blond sweetness which glows & glows brighter
In the loveliness of death)

Traces of fir fragrance mingle with the damp grass filled with sadly deflated stars - candle keepers pace the borders of the grove glad and passing, awake to the transitory nature of brilliance (all things disheveled and clean will await the final culling / faces of roses / phantom laughter out the door - into the garden - through the roots of the trees - settled)

Four black motes stained on ivory wings cross mildly accompanied by rain, a gypsy's kiss quivered forth from undiscovered beds - remembrances, a parade for quiet insects, a time for repose & evenings dedicated to spaciousness.
Connor
Written by
Connor  23/M/MSH
(23/M/MSH)   
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