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Sep 2014
Nights breath,
wrap me all around your haze.
Lacking of light,
evening voice, sobbing.

Song of a siren stranded on a million stars,
tear me up,
bruise up my mind with the rustling wind of your laughter,
conspiring and swarming from yesteryear.

Silence manifestation,
may your voice enslave me,
burst of sensations and halfway felt sentiment.

Invigorating tonic that emerges on my skin by your lips virtue.
Antonio Fonseca
Written by
Antonio Fonseca  Guatemala
(Guatemala)   
768
     Amna and r
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