It’s long past
midnight. A storm
passes through my room, sung
like still air, yet nursing a spark
of bliss to turn my cold to warm.
One soul, two lips, one tongue:
what gifts you gave to the dark.
passes through my room, sung
like still air, yet nursing a spark
of bliss to turn my cold to warm.
One soul, two lips, one tongue:
what gifts you gave to the dark.
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