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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Relationship · #1627065
When time won't give what you desire.


Clouds scatter,
the smoke of its tears
a blanket against the mist.
It showered down my skin
and clothed me in blindness,
accompanying me...
keeping me cold.
Those clouds brought the wind
as it shielded my eyes from the sun
and I watch it scatter—
waiting
half-awake.


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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1627065--22-