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Jul 2019
The head lays heavy
on the soft chest
with the calm beating heart.
And the palms caress the strands
of soft sun-bleached-to-blonde hair.
The pillows of the fingers
press kindly and lightly on the scalp
little elves running circles
at the base ot the tree trunk cuticle.
All is peace
and all is morning light.
Until
I woke up in the empty bed at five AM.
Written by
Joy
  184
   Splashes of Surreal, Fawn and nishta
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