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Feb 2022
You came every night,
my black angel, whispering
in the ear to let go of the
well I approached in the
dark, blindfolded,
to mingle my agony and the
hours made of
rose quartz, with the water.
You tried to ease my pain
after I knew that even the
echo from the hole
reverberated words that
weren't mine.
Don't give me up now.
Shape my time. Your
winged presence is my strength,
your colour is my sight.
Inspired by a painting of WΕ‚odzimierz KukliΕ„ski.
Clelia Albano
Written by
Clelia Albano  F
(F)   
669
 
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