Levanter
he/him The wretched of the earth are not meant to make art, we are supposed to be too busy surviving.
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In the twilight of yearning, I feel the weight of unfulfilled promises searing my tongue as the noose tightens its grip. I sense the ache of longing, with each breath a fleeting glimpse of the life I once envisioned. I mourn in silence, hoping the gentle autumn breeze that caresses my soul will extend her kindness to you, my Lily.
Ah, the shared sorrow that binds us, a silent pact of unspoken truths. The elephant lingers, unnoticed by those who gnaw on their lips in quiet contemplation. We yearn for the same, Lily, our vessels adrift on the same sea. My heart serenades the moon, while yours revels in the sun’s embrace. There lies a contrast, a divergence. The orange is peeled, my dear, its zest scattered upon the table. Shall we partake in this final waltz before the curtain falls?
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