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Hope is a wounded seagull perched on a blue cliff in mid storm. It is the beautiful girl giving you a smile and words that smell like midnight lilies. Hope is the nadir of this imperfect world.      

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Posted in Blog de companie, Invisible stories, My poems, Words in English, 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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