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I wonder what freezesthe flurry of hurt on her cold-flushed cheeks, if his touch isa salve or the shattering.
Beth Morey Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul
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I wonder what freezesthe flurry of hurt on her cold-flushed cheeks, if his touch isa salve or the shattering.
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Beth Morey

Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul

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