Slashed as paint ripping wild the canvasof its confines you woke the room,your music a stringed surge reverberatingthe grey.Around the round words your lips moveas delicate as geraniums drift,as electric panthers wagthe tangle of minted night.owning us more than angelsand the very lyric breathof each plucked, pink noteis a danced destiny. More at https://www.jmiddletonpoems.com/.
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