im a jester amongst knighted stallions
a concubine for self aware eunuchs
the wind in your butterfly valley
what did you harbor through those shades
woven are we as intaked stardust
in the contemplated sigh of intrigue
filter your ghost through my gaze
into night’s wrinkled exhale
we sift through blinking reveries
in the throats of resting sparrows
do not chase the wind
only cloak the mouth
for in the uprise we drift through
thunders pulse
as castoff threads on a tapered memory
as we fade
in the snap
like ashen echoes
lost as swollen hope
in the valley of scars.
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WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
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