July 16, 2010
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Why have the banished me to Hell?
I cannot say.
But I float near the surface of Tartarus under a sun more lovely than love.
Beneath me are ripples of temperate laughter—

They tickle my chin, but transparent hands stifle the mirth from escaping my own tongue.
Above me, fruitful branches play tag with the clouds that lovers marvel at;
Cupid hath strung them with captured hearts

that cannot kiss my fingertips.

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