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VioletNova
Poems
Feb 2013
Blank Hour
Pens fall from lips
quietly inside
a rush
of
dusty mouths laid
across the oceans piano.
The blood stricken
fruit of my heart
drips wine into
a salt rimmed glass.
Truth stained in his
wide, fragile, grin.
Written by
VioletNova
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Aarin Mullins
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