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Exchanging emotions for
Something warmer, why
Do our chests ache like
A placid ballad

(I am on a wire— )

Shattering inconsistencies:
Today is almost a chronicle
Of yesterday, we are much
Much older now

(— with ankles of a ballerina)

Calendars whisper with every
Passing day, moon phases etch
Themselves out of roman numerals
And we carve smiles into our palms


exuent




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