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Sep 2022
The last of the folded star's light
Dines with a knife in someone's kitchen, once
The silver glow blinds nobody else but the silverware
She waits all too much for that night, that glow
She can't wait and travels east of east in all sums
On the train she finds kites and ribbons hung to cupid, the voice
Who asks "what ere sunrise does not look liberating to your misery?"
The knife doesn't matter to them, the sharpness hollows
Deepens the whisper among the sooth
Makes shifts to riches of cupid and his whispering winds
She leaves for east
Too long she longed east
Nothing felt, nothing sung, nothing bled, nothing called
At the edge of the world she says
"Call out your name love, it won't be long"
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