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Lurking in the bellowed silence A nameless note fills the void. Passive aggressive mid-tone Too high strung on this expectation To linger a lullaby in this remorse. To whisper soft the fallacy in mind, To brush off the redemption with A subtle sweep of a hand-cherished wind. Murky and visionless wonders abound To the closing of a tether-less heart. Be it that sounds play vital veins Or illusions part reality to satisfy The conscious limbs of a devotion Touching the world inside the field The fission of the split second. And it was love. © 2006
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
And It Was Love
Lurking in the bellowed silence A nameless note fills the void. Passive aggressive mid-tone Too high strung on this expectation To linger a lullaby in this remorse. To whisper soft the fallacy in mind, To brush off the redemption with A subtle sweep of a hand-cherished wind. Murky and visionless wonders abound To the closing of a tether-less heart. Be it that sounds play vital veins Or illusions part reality to satisfy The conscious limbs of a devotion Touching the world inside the field The fission of the split second. And it was love. © 2006
neal-emanuelson
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
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