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verbal ballet theory
form over function
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Continued
Submerged my face and opened my eyes,
oxygen bubbles were fast on the rise,
I saw in each one a reflection of you,
then all was black, all was through.
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This is the faintest whisper of
an attempt to trace the outline
of my soul for you to colour-in.
Smile.
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