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Jun 14
she dwelt in pith of elder breath,
rusting tongue of loam;
hidden in tulle of former death,
enthroned in nightfall’s home.

the moon bestowed her phantom crown,
the ivy's grasp too deep;
i rose from earth, feathered renown,
in sable wrapped to keep.
Written by
vik  17
(17)   
173
     Rastislav, Alvin Montagnani and star
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