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Nov 5
the wind whispers her name too often.

and more than ever, I feel -
her arms open like an arc to a city,
and now, I return.
such welcome, such warmth
my lady, a vision
colors, no longer ebony
it's charcoal with the glow of

the sky is not just blue,
it's her breath - pastel and sweet
and sometimes fierce

apple no longer red -
red is her lips
red is her confession
three words slicing my skin
red is blood
and I flow for her
red is the shape of her skin
so I draw her with my eyes shut.

the sun - no longer yellow
the sun - no longer the sun
the sun
is she.
the sun - no longer
worth hiding from.
she fuels me and
in the city named after her,
I live.
for t. hello, hp. missed u. so much has changed, so much is yet to be written.
Written by
thebutterfly-writes  18/F/Philippines
   mocha, Sue Collins and leila
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