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musings & scribbles

your servant, i

how pale turns moon

when your eyelids close

and your servant, i, can see you dreaming–

within subtled twitch

your lips turn rose

and left am i,

the startled spy upon your ceiling

how round those eyes

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round those eyes


roundest eyes

that arm

jerk-twisted and showing

those ribs

those ribs cleaned

and caving

those eyes;

how round

those eyes

swollen and stationed

musings & scribbles