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What if we were lovers? From the derm to the core? What if we were the shutters to Hatred’s Lore? Would we dance with the rays? Smile at the budding moon? And hate decay and ruin?
The Whitest Soul I may be,
Peep, slip under the surface tension. Dip, sail under the current's one-way mirror. I found your skin buried under the old yew. I fell in love with your form, your ocean grace. Mermaid of fur. Dog of my heart's ship; my ship's heart.