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the warmth pooled your face
carrying aeons of fervent flames
only to serve their purpose of shining your divine face i so wish to caress every second
Those lights carry history on your face
and you are a greek statue

with arms not long enough to reach
venus, i sit above epochs waiting for you
though your beauty could never stand the louvre's temporary walls
evermore shining

Sylas, 10th of December, 31

MR. BORN TO LOSEDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora