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by Esther Frances 

Posted: 15 December 2008
Word Count: 61

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Your flesh ebbs into mine
It succumbs to me
It makes a thing
A thing called 'us'

Our glimpsing moonlight
paints gentle strokes
and sculptures moments
carried in quiet breaths

Unrolling reluctant eyes
from deeper sockets
so that flesh on flesh
we cast aside reality

Each hiding in the other
Invisible yet visible
Layer upon layer
of who we really are

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