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About This Poem
if tulips were as wild as huricane skies
Silver edges the land as
dawn widens the days;
dewdrops sprinkle fields
where tulips are buried deep
moistening hands that pluck
the reddest, mirroring
the flush of the sea's winds
tunneling the shores of
her reckoning. Sinking
suns bleed tulip colors,
as stars burst through the night
as black as her eyes, closing
like the petals so soft,
easy to gently kill
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