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Flower Whispers

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What would the crocuses say?
Belting out throaty
sighs of exultation,

singing of love and
the beauty of a thousand
setting suns.

I remember the peony-water
pooling at the edges
of your lips

as you breathed the
sweet-wine incense
of that unholy matrimony.

Enraptured,
I let you lead me
to the altar

of our beautiful
demise.





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