Magic's Vest

The spirals of time    
spider ever so beautifully...    
enough to attract a moth;      
an image so riddled with life    
that the cloth of time itself      
seems a frozen death.    
But the web is constant,    
habitual hands circling cues      
from one exchange to the next;      
forever falling from love      
is a new date with déjà vu.    
Whether we will or won't    
never challenged the test,    
whether we are or aren't    
is what holds the wheel true.    
So savor solace suspended wings...    
magic's vest is only owned      
to the momentary moth it imbues.    
Thus confess your rest unto me    
while I caress your painted stings,    
like the fire, your breath consumes.    
Sleep tight now pretty butterfly,    
but promise unto me when I    
ingest your painful things,      
your starlight hue      
will never die.    
Written by arortiz73 (MTP)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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