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Click heretime’s purple cyclone with its whirling
tore his soul’s worn edges
as he traded his imagined love
for unrequited love
yet even still
torn and bent wing fairies fluttered through
the threadbare patches
of his tattered heart
and in the clearing mist of the morning’s ash
his glacial desires dripped randomly and sweetly
like an evergreen’s crying wound
while he slipped to the bottom of a bottomless crevasse
and searched for his reflection in an inky cup there
but was blinded by the stars in the muck there