she burns like the torches This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

December 30, 2011
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My skin is too stained with smoke
to sleep.
Smothered, suffocating,
yet serendipitous.
Rest?
A foolish motion.
Jests; a lacking notion,
such as the way of romance,
and per chance,
the scorching stench of burnt wood.





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