So Swiftly Spoken Were Our Nights

I planned the Atlantic subdual,
And gave a cross into her hands,
Dwelling darkly in a diminutive swell,
The paths I lead to burn.

And through the fire of our intersection,
We find a ghostly and transformative result,
By which you choose to end
Maternity’s cerebral fluctuations.

I pulled apart the seams,
Strengthened intuition.

And know before we leave,
There was an absolute reconstruction
Of the past as forfeiture for our addendum.

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