quarta-feira, 28 de maio de 2025

The ruby tipped rod

 Eyes might linger as long as summer
As green as those hills do
as long as the want longer than the will
The imperfection arouses me

That alone is demonic
Invisible suffering a frost that wasn't
a deadening cold an absence of something
Intangible the shadow of a face

the apparition of a face
far off lights
an abandoned city
plagued by old spirits

That alone is demonic
Powerful legs might want for carry
Powerful arms might hug
Sensitive hearts will worry blunt ones just tug


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