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.morning.

you crashed into my journal,
'in the temple of my familiar',
all juniper,
salacious and saffron,
basquine,
clad in nothing but tidal force,
bearing truth seeking missile.

You must know,
you have a mouth fit for roses,
and there is ancient fibonacci sequined
in the pentameter of your spine.
Written by miciela
Published | Edited 16th May 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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