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Sep 2020
Love is no longer a question of appearances.
It dwells in me now, and
slowly inflates, like a balloon filling with blood.
The passions of a dead man pulse through
blue veins. But love is not a one-way street;
still, how could one fall out of love?
My third eye is shut,
but I dream of you.
Remember how the ground lit up beneath our feet?
I cannot forget two souls intertwined,
and glowing beneath countless stars...
The Dybbuk
Written by
The Dybbuk
140
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