Trance of haze,
illuminates fire.
Rough fingers,
the plea of touch.
White teeth smile,
and stitched eyes wander.
On summers edge,
the dust of bones.
Feet take place,
to shadows ahead.
The incrimination,
as days prosper.
I have seen beauty,
the lucid moon.
On summers edge,
the dust of bones.
Revealed faces,
forgotten.
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