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The serpent slayer

She quit pretending she needs a hero. She is her hero Her own sun and stars. She is her sunset above the sea She is her moon in late twilights She is her words making pools of smiles For whom

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Posted in Blog de companie, Invisible stories, My poems, Visible stories, 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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