From leaves fermented in dark midnight blue leviathan
clinging to the pulse blue denim indigo, as the moon
awakens me with a scent of buttons and pours its ink
into my quiver wearing the river’s memory,
my fingers dip in the loom drowning my lips
stitched with the cold thimbles,
clinging to the pulse…
before it bled blue denim indigo.
Rated for Everyone
Midnight Blue Leviathan
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