And I would,
Without audible whisper
Lay within
The storm you have bandaged
Yourself, heartfelt.

Blood flows,
Mornings go
On towards the secretive sunset,
As I first thought them
To be imagined,
In one crystallized mind.

Facing you,
For I am no man,
As ever a child
Could reverse a train
Upon stillness, laid in life.

Porcelain arms,
A mouth washed with crimson.
Scenery to a face,
Traced with sublime contours
As the even strands
To your hair.

As the mornings go,
While blood slows
On its epitome
With the wind in these eyes,
I will hold the stones
Close to heart,
That the fires might be trapped.

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