Where am I?
I stand softly, I lean
against a vine-stained wall,
gilded in ancient cracks and
wrinkles,
crowned with thorns.
I stretch, I hold out my
arms, Christ-like, to you.
My trembling fingers curl upward
in prayer,
catching rain and blood kisses
in spiraling rivulets, caressing
the air we displace together.
My lashes shiver, cold
with emotion, fringed with pearls.
my lips curve, alabaster sheen,
not smiling,...
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