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She doesn't whisper life to me    
she roars her stories loud and free    
of drunken men and wrecks and fish    
secret love and death and with      
my eyes set skyward, arms outstretched    
she kisses me in the breeze    
    
Shouting songs of fight and right    
constellations, ancients, myth and sight    
reminding me by all relayed    
through curl and colour of sunlit waves    
her brutal honesty takes the brave  -    
may colours drench the days we sieze  
Written by Jestalessa
Published | Edited 6th May 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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