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Jul 22
It's a room of gold lights
he is drawing lush nectar
the fear is drawing his blood
the admiration is enslaving
the fingertips are tracing
every inch,
through the cloudy nights.
The ears are savouring
each whisper,
they are savouring anatomies
perhaps the creator's
greatest mights,
Perishment is consuming him
he desires yet he doesn't
for what good is fulfilment
if it didn't birth from yearning.
Written by
Diljeev  19/M
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