the way she denies,
its celestially perfect -
like made with the suns.
Her breath that snakes
over my skin,
and settles like a snowflake,
cold and melting -
like a May at Rohtang.
A feeling that hits once
and lingers forever.
A glimmer that shines once
and erases never.
A consecration to the mortals,
a curse to the divine -
once you leave empty
only then you find.
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