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		<title>Krystal Newton | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/kmnewton</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Krystal Newton</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Ode to Soul Lake</title>
			<description>Masked by reflection, its calm serenity provides an illusion.Its sweet seduction slowly invades my senses.My once motionless, emotionless state is now a cluster - unrestrained.I marvel at its splendor, its taste cleans my palate.I refuse its request for a kiss,and choose to revel in&amp;nbsp;p..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmnewton/420601/</link>
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			<title>Inebriation</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;Your substance is sweet, I watch you retreatto the bottom, like the ocean&amp;rsquo;s waves from a beach.Lethe flows in your veins, when you&amp;rsquo;re gone nothing remains.Such effortless artifice follows your touch.You enhance; you destroy &amp;ndash; I can&amp;rsquo;t discern which one is which..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmnewton/417394/</link>
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			<title>[untitled]</title>
			<description>Something tells me I knowNothing.Everything I have learned today makes me hungry for tomorrow. &amp;nbsp;What remains? &amp;nbsp;You remainA constant reminder that I know nothing of this place I call home -&amp;nbsp;They call home of the brave.Do they know&amp;nbsp;Anything? &amp;nbsp;Perhaps they are the..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmnewton/415157/</link>
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			<title>Ma Meilleure Fleur</title>
			<description>My wings grew tired - you caught my eye.I landed on your petals.Rested.Looked.Curious to see what lay beneath.I feel my legs settle into the surface of your cool, comfortable flesh.You do inspire; I'm mesmerized.Slowly.Quietly.I feel you decaying beneath my feet.Je suis un Papill..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmnewton/415156/</link>
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			<title>Those Forgotten</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;Welcome to our garden; dilapidated and harshAre the flowers that grow here. &amp;nbsp;We are thirsty and parched.Our existence resisted, twisted weeds reap beneathmercilessly at our roots underground - we can't breathe.There was a time when we flourished.A time we grew tall.Welcome to ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmnewton/415154/</link>
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