𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬™
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I can breathe the ashes of poetry crushed beneath the muse’s heels,
longing to be cleansed by my hands.
longing to be cleansed by my hands.
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