blinding midnight beam
broken, tainted window pane
flowing frozen sore
peeking of rose vines below
hiding shaft of brilliance
over dense dew of shadows
dripping fluid of each others body
tang of bitter-sweet melancholy
touch of juicy lips
digs deeper grave of abyss
decades of harsh strokes
heals no numbing wounds nor sores
yet, taps our broken souls
treasures of collected sins
and remained hidden pleasures
then, expect an arrangement that is not meant
for another tomorrow
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