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anniversary poem

by the rude bridge
the air is like a butterfly
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
i despise my friends more than you
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
one with you
city that is not a city
she burst fierce wine
here falls no light
sad are they who know not love
that year
who is the runner in the skies
you are clear
night was black and drear

 



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