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Summary
there are palaces wherein there I have wept
where I have wondered of your lips
where I have crept upon the dirty floors of if
and licked the bruises of my knees there into
peaches
into paradigms
I do not give one single shit
for anything less
than my happiest thought
a truer me to see me through
sees this:
your eyes are closed
and you love me
- Michael Kadela, "LXVIII"
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