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Carcass of a dream

What is a dream But the realization of serene wishes and happiness pure prolonged and decaying in the mere cold, sticky and shimmering blue Covering words that spoke of true Love alive on the hills, beaten by the winds and

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Posted in Invisible stories, My poems, Wordsmith

“Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.” -Iulia Halatz

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