A Memory Painted on a Porcelain Skyline

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On a brightly colored Sunday morning
A voice wakes the dream of a sleeping coast
Beneath the constellation's under-lace
Across the clouds is the sound of a ghost

Hiding ‘neath the waves are frozen dreaming sheets
Trapped inside the wind’s melodies that sing
Even if the stars beckoned, would you leave?
Sing me to sleep as we fall in the sea

Contagious on your death bed, I’d still stay
Under brittle, broken bones breaking down
Flickering eyes still shining to this day
Would wake me to hear your melodic sound

Sleeping, anticipating this one choice;
Awoken by your solitary voice





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