At Kora

Sometimes, the one you long for looks to you, one
furtive glance cross a table. The throngs forgive
you a moment of bliss. Your heart ping-pongs. And you

is a word no longer single. His
and hers are wrong dualities. Sands
say dying, songs off-key. If you pray,
wish to belong here, in this.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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