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Casabianca

by satsih-verma

No word walks with me. I am tired like a smoke bird, waiting for my lost love. My future was a sin, I will not speak of the past. When Borax fails, I fall at the feet of my palm. Eyes are cheap. But response gives the empty bowl filled by the moon last night.
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Written by
satsih-verma
Published
Nov 16, 2024
Time
1m
Tags
#life
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