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		<title>Beauty | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/beautifuldreamer</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Beauty</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>She</title>
			<description>A glimpse beneath the labels and surface selves we women wear so well.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/beautifuldreamer/1022340/</link>
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			<title>You Speak Poetry</title>
			<description>You speak poetry liquid as fragrant tea poured boldlyfromsteady hand.	I sip at your words savoring the sweetness of each syllable, swallow smoothly the rhythm of each verseand jealously linger over the last drop, loathe to come to an end of it alland place empty cup in cold saucer...</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/beautifuldreamer/573083/</link>
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			<title>Sacred Romance (Stay)</title>
			<description>Sweet Ancient of Days,Come to me wearing any disguise:thorny rosesoft-footed snow mournful windor rain tippity-tapping my window pane;romance me, though all around me prove false,though come nightfall the darkling air throbs with menace most foul.Should mountains shake and the hill..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/beautifuldreamer/215214/</link>
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			<title>Holy Ground</title>
			<description>Your anger motheris as quiet as your handsfolded mutely in your lap at church,hands which (not unlike your anger)will not fidget or move a muscleto do this that or the other,whether good or evil.What&amp;#2013266066;s the matter, mother, that you can&amp;#2013266066;t stir yourself from su..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/beautifuldreamer/215200/</link>
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			<title>The Color of Bones</title>
			<description>My mother, a bleacher of bloodstainedsheets, bleaches my dreams the color of bones,and feeds me on snakes and dirty slate stones.She winces each time I walk through the door,a mere apparition (though we&amp;#2013266066;ve done this before.)She blinks at the angles of my newly-formed hipsan..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/beautifuldreamer/215186/</link>
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