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The abscission of inner voice comes, storm from a vein of clouds, cut that bleeds a profusion of thoughts. She trails a finger through confusion, seeks coagulation, anything that solidifies. Free but lonely --- an epitaph signed by empty arms from lip to heart, extended to a faithless world. Something more than silence --- tears form a haptic prayer.
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
Who Counts a Woman's Tears
The abscission of inner voice comes, storm from a vein of clouds, cut that bleeds a profusion of thoughts. She trails a finger through confusion, seeks coagulation, anything that solidifies. Free but lonely --- an epitaph signed by empty arms from lip to heart, extended to a faithless world. Something more than silence --- tears form a haptic prayer.
brian-oarr
Written by
American
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
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