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A list of wounds

We are all broken flowers We have seen the moon smiling The waves crashing The shimmer and thunder of springs The blazing lightning of pain When regluing the chinks in our hearts a hundredfold again… We have seen the tremble

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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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