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Frozen Balloon
Frozen Balloon
A Tele-Graphed Whisper,
You Know The Game:
Mountains To Sand
Surrender The Same.
No Sun-Burn, No Sea-Gulls...
No Music, No Face.
The Memory Of A Memory
Once Deeply Embraced.
Who Are You, Once Real?
On The Want Of Your Breath?
I Grasp For Integrity...
In
The
Throes
Of
It's
Death.
The Skin-Kissed Un-Wearable,
Exhausted, We Chased:
The Intention Of Memories
We Armed To Embrace.
No Furtive Dilemma...
No Sweet Nectar's Taste:
This
Fading
Mad
Memory...
Expanding In Space.
-Gray Squirrel
06-10-2025
Copyright ©
Gray Squirrel
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