The Unicorn Forgot Happiness Alongside Batman
Single horn above the bridge, what magic flies
within your curvature? Sooth my wound gaping
in metaphysical realms: aching to embrace
your abrasive cloven earth-trodders, whose size
uproots moss to make way for the light – shaping
roots to the plants that your leftovers grace
our ground with, within the past and without demise.
Truly is out to mirror in, demise thus mirrors past, snaping
our domain. That powerful horn, crest of your face,
ceases to appear ahead of me – no more cream-filled pies
nor fireflies. Do sometime come over for coffee and draping
of draperies slovenly glazed, back at 909 Cynical Place.
Gender:
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