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hands full of the scent of hair
face lifted to the tilted
sky as I savor halos
of perfume from her shoulders
eyes open to a vaulted
chamber strewn with vanishing
specters of songs left to dry
into crumbling salt pillars
never look back to sunset
move into the crimson haze
as the morning melds with night

(Words and images Copyright 2013 © by Michael Kallstrom)

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