The wayward dove drove to paradise.
Under split wings and partial decay,
under the wooden steps she took her last flight in a Cadillac.
She spoke her secret to no one and the mumbled, fumbled words
transpired into hums from her throat.
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Sweet Spirit
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At night, the stairs of this old house creaks Whispering to me, sweet spirit sleeping soundly during the night. The shadow movements, the ...
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