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A story of two kingdoms.
Aching,
longing,
killing for each other.
Burning butterflies bound
to dried ink and
smiles of suffering.

Blue fingers and fallen leaves
on the hollow piano and
broken strings of the violin
cut off with swords.
But still, she sang with
rusted daggers inside her lungs.

A war between love and lust.
A war between hearts and touches.
A war between spears and anklets.

What won were the butterflies
dripping of ink everything
a sword was pushed
through flesh.
         ~Sampurna

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