The Things that pull us down and the stuff that lets us fly.
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Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Slow goodbye
I spun eternity
on a magic silver sink
While the breathtaking moon
engulfs our pretending
the missing sun sleeps
and she's lost to the dark
the blind bitter softness
until the dawn brings
a slow withering goodbye
It's been a week since you last poem here. Foot tapping
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