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Rupture
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Rupture

Standing at the doorway
Inhaling essence of raw leaves
In my repose I capture you in
The tiny irises of my mother's eyes
Petals twirl around buds
To disrobe later when a canopy
Of Spring lends you shade as a bride

Fingers are tender stalks
Colored with sparse romance
As you are laid on the conjugal bed
Blind night helps in
Wiping away remorse of a
Meek surrender in its soundless flow

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