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Through Venetian Blinds an Italian village fountain in the square night pressing in lovers mooning they and they rise fall return for another trip tiny acrobats watching winking a leaf on the ivy dew clinging it creeping up the wall of your villa sighs as the tiny moth pushes off on his nightly tour the scent of your soap lingering lifting me over above your absence bells toll and echo through rain through streets down the canals and stone homes past privacy into hearts beating loudly to listeners streetlamps giggling shuffling clip-clopping cobblestones gliding boats guiding notes the night nigh the silent, too pistachios crunching teeth sticking to staying near and one another huddling close drowning in sorrow and the salivations of ingestors awaiting deliverance from the crevices deep the sound of a solution loud now disturbing sleep imminent It silently finds its way through confident it comprehends its role dissolving salts smoothing scars repairing yet wearing warily watching it thunder a thundering plunder yet plundering itself a silent solution but not always occasionally in the proper pain in the creases between silence and longing it drips letting me know telling me reminding me of it as if I could forget or wanted to |
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