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Venus Flytrap

August 20, 2012

(best read after Elysium Summer)

 

 

The moth awoke after the fall, peppered

against the same, as warm glow

rested lightly in the distant yard.

 

The breeze ruffled wings playfully,

flirting and beckoning them away

and up, up on lofts of air like a whisper.

 

The moth danced in scatters along the beams,

shying from the dark as it followed feelings

until it felt dazed, bouncing off the bulb again.

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From → Poetry

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