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the art of words that fall onto pages from nowhere

glass echoes in ice cold hollows sounds loud but absent to our ear I hear you speaking but see nothing nothing really becoming clear falling transforms the still standing beneath the line I cannot cross haunting whispers beyond the curtain pre-emting inevitable loss twilight becomes the weary traveller invites rest for tired dreams cascade silkily into sanctum sacred sleeping silences velvet screams

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 11/16/2023 3:00:00 PM
Nice rhymes and good flow to your poem.. Interesting thoughts here and i like the line, twilight becomes the weary traveller.. when someone is in a certain moment, they will not hear the other... so what is the point of communicating? that is when tongues become silent...
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Da11y Avatar
Di11y Da11y
Date: 11/16/2023 3:31:00 PM
Thank you, I'm not sure where this came from - just something I half wrote yesterday and finished as I walked into work. It looked quite pretty and seemed a shame to bin it. Thanks for your comment

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