A Kiss Stone Cold
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the sky is liquid ink with not a star and I walk a
flower strewn path seeking him, the man I dream of in this hushed
place and the wild wind tangles my hair and my gown presses against
me for I have no strength to fight those dark eyes that haunt my nights,
now, here he stands waiting for me, oh I should run away, I
should flee but I find myself floating to him- his skin is so pale and
beautiful, his long dark hair fluttering in the wind and then his lips are
on mine in a kiss, stone cold . . . .
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March 16, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/a kiss stone cold
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1125-399-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest,Wk 3, March 19
sponsor, Brian Strand
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2019
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