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It once was there and now it seems
A smile that haunts the very
shadow of my space.
A coy and roguish cleaver thing,
Its crescent moon an epitaph
beneath my dreaded shades.
There it reads,
Behind a rustic fence of septic
thoughts
And spacious silhouetting dreams:
Toll upon you day and dark.
I stretch my lips to break the
heart
And blunder that which holds
together,
An evening, an island
A screen door, a feather.
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