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When you don't
perceive me,
I stick to the
string of
The maternity of
mine,
I hence see the
world
To be
disintegrating in her hall.
When you don't
perceive me,
The worn – out
woods get afloat,
And I descry in the
skyline,
The Arch of Noah
coming.
When you don't
perceive me,
I fling myself
among my tiny things,
Under the drizzle
of kisses,
Embracing the sun
of the memories of mine.
When you don't
perceive me,
I go ecstatic over
the acridness of tears,
Over the rapture of
a bird,
Tasting after
chocolate,
Panicked by
conviction,
When you don't
perceive me,
I shall wait for
you before
My mirror, readying
Myself for your
luster.
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When you don't
perceive me,
I step out in
earnest towards your temple,
Your own fondness
suffuses me
And so does a
slight drunkenness with your own luster.
When you don't
perceive me,
I behold some soft
tender lips that
Have bought
cherries
And made a present
of to both points,
The start and the
end
Of my own lips.
When you don't
perceive me,
I speculate over
the trees of the silence of mine,
In the garden,
And the flowers of
joys.
When you don't
perceive me,
I see space to be
statues for the dream of
A tiny heart.
When you don't
perceive me,
I unlock the cages
of the self of mine
For all the
ravenous multitudes
To take leave,
I thence feel the
shiver of relinquishing.
When you don't
perceive me,
The feet of those
who have crossed are still
Astray in the sand.
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