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Mar 2019
a dust of the moon wipes my face and my crystal edges,
hiding from the evil eye of the world,
it was a spell without a clue,
with the shadow in the thought the death angels called,
a twilight under the eyes of the holy ghost,
the death of the long-time world,
under my eyes of cold shadows,
red arrows and dry shadows.
Written by
goddessofdivinity  23/London
(23/London)   
293
     Fawn and julie
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