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𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛

𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛

【Transferring contents of this—my Medium page—to my fledgling Substack page, as this—the Medium app—has become unusable. (My—linked—𝕏 page is ALSO obsolete.)】

Moments and hours and

Days and the years

Between them

Gray wall to closed

Door, pittering slicing

Rain on curled shingles,

The same deafening

Silence, the same vague

Eternity sputtering

Out with a heart under

Get 𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛’s stories in your inbox

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The armoire, collecting dust

No time for tears nor a

Face to give them

Reason or form

~

Blue perfume gives glory to the drowned earth,

Where she meets heaven at the meridian of time.

Pale haze licked the shore,

Touched with its cold hands the stones and the breathing land,

The creeping wind and the silent cliffs,

The shadow of a way,

A word, a nameless light…

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𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛
𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛

Written by 𝓥𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓽. 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮〚𝑪.∴𝑰.\⠦𝙐._𝘾.⠴〛

【Transferring contents of this—my Medium page—to my fledgling Substack page, as this—the Medium app—has become unusable. (My—linked—𝕏 page is ALSO obsolete.)】