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Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #2307688
destruction and grace
She was the bombshell
and I the bomb site.

I’m the wreckage born
from battles might,

She, the dawn,
reborn in light

Flirting with our infinite flight,
my wings fly dark as hers ignite.

Unsuited to a heavenly sight.
To much dismay,
She outshone my might.

Until she left
ascending to light.

Twilights satellite, a star so bright.
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