An Ode To My Eyelashes
You slice through wind and rain
Like raven shaded sickles.
My ebony gargoyles,
Yet there is nothing monstrous
About the fine arc you follow as
You flare out into a flattering skirt.
Know that when you're final hour arrives,
And you fall onto my cheek
Like the hand of a gentle lover, your
Departure will be met with elegy.
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