In freedom you form in utter disgrace, the bars of my prison this night. While you drift on currents of seraphim heights, it is I who deserve to take flight.
Craig Froman
Then, as a single snowflake flares and flickers upon voicing its final breath, so two eyes make silent conversation with mine. A face as iridescent as candle-fire purls verse and poetry. My eyes read her every intent as a wave of recollections floods my senses.
beauty desire
pain sorrow disillusionment
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