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~If only all our senses had eyes of their own...
in the dark life of days you bore
the slow born breath was never blind;
yesterdays trust haunts the picture of morning.
if a hallowed perfume decays every secret hour,
why should the longings of a fool for opened windows
make god linger on as our prisoner-
when desires can't embrace one star at night,
all our questions lie broken, bleeding out time.
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