The cutting Solitude
A. Krishna Isley
The stygian night has broken ,
The raw scares of dawn fill the sky!
Drinking the sun of his love ,
Burned the tong of the taste
There is new crimson beneath the bed,
Residing inside a sepulcher heart
The truth is all ways love,
Taste the stinging silver kiss.
The scar's purification lets the darkness slumber.
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