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Photo: Josh Felipe/Unsplash.com

When we gathered there,

the hushed, innate spirit stirred.

It awoke, it stymied us,

our compulsive, selfish souls.

Silenced we were, but restless,

like stowaways clustered shut.

In our nocturnal circle,

A creamy ring stain on wood,

Mahogany dark like silk

molten, condensed chocolate,

A glossy, disturbing orb

to a stranger, but our firm

foundation, our only hope

in this cold, unforgiving world.

We shiver, we bleed, we cry,

“Come, Lord.

Come soon.

Bless us.

Guide us.

In Your Name, Amen.”

Born and raised in CA. Film, literature, music, poetry, mostly gay/queer/GSM topics. Stick around if I haven’t bored you yet.

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