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    Borne On The Air

    𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓇𝒸𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓏𝑒,𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎,𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓍𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓁𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓊𝓇-𝒹𝑒-𝓁𝒾𝓈.𝐼𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝒻𝓉𝓈, 𝒶 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁, 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃,𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓂𝑒...

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    Nothing More

    The cold air holds me now, a thin, vast shroud. Where weight and breath are ghosts of what they were. Watching the shore where life dissolved to cloud, a shadow drifting, utterly austere. The final silence should have been my...

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    Beneath the Eye

    The dark, warm plume begins to spiral high,A bitter velvet cloud against the pane,And in that fragrant steam, beneath the eye,The past returns, defying sun or rain.It is the scent of mornings laced with gold,The sharp, narcotic call of...

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    Without Key

    ...stuck in this riddle a long time, hauntingof unanswered questions I cannot grasp each breath a cold whisper thick with dust without a key to a puzzle of woven thoughts within my soul where I continue to dwell   

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    Tongue-Tied Memories

    The past sits on my tongue, an aphasic weight. It is not an absence, but a presence, a collection of moments so vivid they have no easy words. I can see the afternoon light slanting across the worn floorboards...

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    4 Comments
    • A brilliant writing, dear Adagio! I will never stop marveling at your wording and imagery! Especially your creative comparisons leave me awe- struck!

    • Thank you, Elke.

    • This piece resonated with me on a personnal level, I have been recluse for a while and words can no longer describe the intensity of my life experiences, hence I keep them private at the core of my soul, for my own enjoyment.

      I enjoyed every word, beautifully portrayed.

    • I appreciate that, Jade.

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