ThoughtsA Poem by eglantine
there is something delicate
about a moths' wing under microscope light, like flossing a heartbeat between your teeth. little moth, little moth, I weep for you with tears untouched by sun or hand. trade bodies with me: learn to speak with fingers and I'll crawl, one-winged, off the window sill. © 2013 eglantineAuthor's Note
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Added on May 20, 2013Last Updated on May 20, 2013 |

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