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| Emotions raw with waiting bleed
upon the night, gentle stains invisible to all, but in moonlight I am pale in shine-skin, waiting, still and poised for your balm, brutal in its absence yet so close, hidden in the air that tortures me with touch unseen, yet felt by every other sense that mounts the wall of stubborn heart�s defense, knowing that it is not real in moonlight, where I wait, still and broken for your presence in my flesh, your mark upon my wanton breast. So, in this light, what else can I do but fall willing to the hands of time, cruel master of my need, devourer of all breath while I, waiting still and pale long for you to call my name, the hour and the way of my undoing in your arms? |