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Beauty

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I saw the tower today. The tower was tall, flat, orange, and horned. The realization of what it was made me sink into an abyss. I've been floating low and lower as the time fails to tick away at the moon. My body becomes too heavy and too much of a burden to move, and yet my descent is slowing down, but never stopping. I feel as if my limbs will rip from my body and my head is twisting backwards and which ways, as if it's looking for something, but I know who it's looking for.

I try to close my eyes to see a different shade of black, and I see a naked figure approaching me. If I concentrate hard enough, I can distinguish his beauty from the darkness. The shoulders of the softest earth, the arms of a gilded, beautiful lavender flower, and long, slender fingers with a blessed feather touch. The body of a worker, an average beauty that none but I have seen, with endowments of strength and awe. However beautiful his body may be, I never let my mind wander to his face.

I know whose body it is and it is a face I'd rather forget. No matter how beautiful he may be.



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