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restored

what little will
have I to say
of where the sun will rise
pressed against
the shadows of a kiss

as whispers
of a moment’s grace
swept across the floor
leaving not a grain
of yesterday

to float beneath
my gathers
as proof of other sins
remembered now
as morning floods my soul

a blush became
of consequence
before my will was known
carried as a name
upon my lips

. . .

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