The CRAGS of
VOVIN
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The CRAGS of VOVIN
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I could be your harpist your heart my nightingale I would play for you and listen to your soul sing. We are all yearning for that touch which rips at our fabric and frees us. Let me be your harpist, plucking at the strings which bind you in yourself I might pluck at one of those strings and unravel you so that for just a moment I could watch you remember your wings and fly. Diarmid |
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Vovin Poetry
Isha |