day 121 . the storm

this is the last of
the thirst of the
first in the eye of
the storm that is
me eternally inhaling
the dizzying scent of
the what was to
be that freezing night
when paradise was
within immortality so
close to the fingers
they continue to ache
for that moment when
they so miserably
failed to wrap around the
offered beyond dusted in
bubbling lemony scent of
forever. for a new dawn is
about to don the impregnable
armor to once again get
up howling defiantly not
at the moon but at
our undying love.

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