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Sun chokes the atmosphere

Sun chokes the atmosphere Moon dies and takes the truth and breath of you Stars inscribe the sky and determine who’s alive… What are your dreams? Ask your heart and put an old wish to the slaughter. Wild is the

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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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