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Nightingale
Poems
Aug 17
A Trance
Your finger reached out to trace my skin
Places others have never been
People bowed and faded
In reverence to this sacred mass
There, time did not exist
Rules did not make sense
My senses could not resist
A passage way into a trance
Snap out of it
Soul back to body
Body back to the world
People and sounds emerged
As we found ourselves
Sitting in the midst of a crowd
Sipping drinks
Losing ourselves
Written by
Nightingale
Beirut
(Beirut)
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Emirhan NakaΕ
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