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She bares her soul to no one — a façade for each mood that infests her thoughts like the plague; reticence stalks her every now and then, as she tries shying away from her darkest secrets ripe as cherries hanging from the bough… a charade of whims planted mysteriously on her sealed lips.
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
Masquerade
She bares her soul to no one — a façade for each mood that infests her thoughts like the plague; reticence stalks her every now and then, as she tries shying away from her darkest secrets ripe as cherries hanging from the bough… a charade of whims planted mysteriously on her sealed lips.
First published in 'ZO Magazine': http://www.zomagazine.com/poetry/
shloka-shankar
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
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