Rawness

There is a rawness

To what’s hollow

And it drags

My sweet pleasures.

Sometimes pricking

Spiccato

But always we bathe in

A resonating emptiness

As fingers pin down

Moonlight slivers

With deft precision.

And the spirit glows

With cutting, sombre

Incision.

yet we may breathe

And fold into

Illusion of dreams

Hiding in the midst of

Reality.

-By Jelly Pom

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