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Dreaming in Florence
by Jauneth Skinner
Sweetly Delusional
by Kelly Ann Malone
Another evening. Rapturous sunset. I bathe my porcelain flesh.
Tickling whispers gently speak words of whimsy that only I can hear.
In my reflection, I see budding gardenias coiling through my hair,
weaving glorious, leafy reeds in and out, dangling fern at my hips.
My love calls to me in triumphant tenor from his perch in the garden.
I lean out of my window, collecting fragrant moon drops onto my warm skin.
As I softly powder my arms, remnant sparkles fall to the floor with a
delicate chime.
Perfumed offering, wrapped in sacrificial silk, I give myself to the dusk.
I search for you in the gathering fog. My phantom love, sing so that I may
find you.
Faint murmurs echoed as I walked to the cliff and looked down into the misty
cove.
I see the souls of the forlorn rise from the waves. I hear them weep then
sadly return to the surf.
I shall not abandon hope and plummet into such depths.
I will sit in the garden beside the blooming vines and wait for you to
appear,
until the dawn carries me back into my bed.
And when the evening glow eclipses the malice of the sun,
I shall again return to my perpetual spring.
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