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until the rapture

 

I will save my breath

For when you hold me

Deep in your sighs.



I will feather with wings the wax of

my crimson heart, and

as Icarus obsessed with your sun,

fly until the rapture,



until I melt as shadows into morning

fall like tears

until dust

until even the shape of my memory


into nothing but white
Written by rnabokov
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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