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Oct 20
The promethean draw of winter stars
new leaves bathed in twinkling lights
hung by the low-slung Moon
sweet, love-sick pearl
called by the Sea and unable to answer--
You roll the clouds in waves across the sky
cloaking yourself when it is too painful
for him to see
what he cannot hold.
Elaenor Aisling
Written by
Elaenor Aisling  27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K
(27/F/body in U.S. heart in U.K)   
334
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