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She is wise,

She is cute,

She is what makes everything mute;

She walks with grace upon broken leaves,

She breaks while you’re whole,

She is all when you are a coal.

Divine is what I fear,

Yet she is the only terror I hear.

Misread by the blackness of her garment;

Or the blood red of her hands.

She walks alone in the night;

She traces every step, every shadow,

You won’t see her till it’s too late;

She despises the closeness she is cared toward Faith,

She doesn’t strike, but touch,

the frozen hearts with her warm lips.

Her kiss is what every man will desire in times of despair.

What makes it a crime, I wonder,

To wish for her, or to dance at her presence?

She is all you might need to understand,

We are last, on water to stand.

Come, come and embrace me you mighty breeze,

Let me touch you one last time,

Before I become of heart, freeze.

ZB

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