Exegesis
A certain kind of appearance
Odd, perhaps it was only the time of day
The ghost of a face some spiders wove
Like the surface tension of a raindrop
Quivering violet feather of light
Strung with heavy hearts on violin strings
Palaces of dreaming dust behind snowflake mirrors
Memories drowning in tides words undone
Falling into numbers precise as chaos
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2018-07-29 at 23:52
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