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Nis Aug 2018
Midnight’s sun rains down
my face, my tears, my happiness
like shallow birds that fall
from the ground
causing earthquakes of joy
on my paintings,
on the glory of beauty;
because the day is high
the poet writes and
I fall into the sky
and spread my dreams
and go where you take me,
to whom hours wheep.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

— The End —