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Cobweb dance

HE loves me He keeps my tears at bay in a corner crystal ball and my heart in a field of molten flowers*. I want to loose the yarn Again he pours crimson dew on my weary tales whilst I

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, 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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