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a tasty dish

she is small, delicate,
frivolous and puerile –
a breath of budding wind

in an otherwise perishing
field; where flowers and
green grasses once kudized

the warm, caroming sun. her
petite stature is perfectly
paired with the smallest

of hands. so fair under
moonlight. as if her skin
and the moon’s were forged

in the same fire. bleakest
midnight shines from her eyes
and men are lost in the
impossible beaming darkness.

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7 thoughts on “a tasty dish

  1. lost in the deep pools of this enchanting darkness… shall i look upward or downward to find this touch… sigh…. poetry is everything… do you have an older brother… hahaha… just kidding… thinking that maybe it mighta rubbed off… one can be bold in the blogland…

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