The shape of her dragging wingspan flowing just above the ground and under the orange moon light produced a shadow with its own painted features, her lace draped sleeves lost their grip and opened toward her wrists like wading water around a boulder which only paints a more intricate pattern, her bust framed with pure white v and her chin narrow and undistinguished, her grace wept me when flowing as it ever was she danced in unison with the eeriness of the night her figure waded through the brush and her skin like porcelain turned to black abscess in silhouette before the moon and like natures hand guiding her breath she subsided to a stature of elegance, with watching eyes I anticipated her stillness or quick movement but her grace formed a breathing stone and from the distance and the dark she seemed to wade across the depths of the back drop, the unchanging focus over hours of stillness now have guided her gaze to mine and i feared if spotted I'd disturb the rare beauty of the night unseen but her chin tucked briefly toward her bosom and with a raise of her draping feathers she was vanished into the quiet night unchanged and unbothered by my willful desire of her
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a ghost in black (poem)
2 Kudos
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