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why do i promise myself
stars knit in a shawl
that will not ever crawl
over your eyes
or shoulders
will not even cover your head
on a rainy day
but then with my hand in your hand
i do not even care
if the footrpints will remain
on sand
fragile
unsure
to run away with the wind
or
embrace the shore
denuded by waves
that has now been abandoned,
 silted edges
empty gazes
donot ask me
who lent me the smiles
that beguiles the innocent
and trap the kind
Should the light be blown off?
The bard falsely accuses her of devouring moths,
While burning herself she illuminates his night;
Ask a moth,
Who with her side
And tell not once was he beguiled;
But watching her die
Rushed to rescue;
Call you that death? Asks the kind heart,
It is my privilege, nay, purpose of life!
annihilating the surface
on which scratches
stay
like stains of love
i ask,
if this is what one seeks
dissolution when
precipation will do
and siltation
when floating on the surface will woe
the waves
that are undecided
whther to be burried on the shore
or remain at the core
of the deep
enigmatic sea