Mozart


Stumbling with perfection,
movement is my language.

Action, direction, misdirection,
your gaze is forever mine as I lead you to be lost

Feel my warmth,
my frighting withdraw,
the tickle of my embrace on parts unfamiliar

Hidden in foundations long covered,
I linger for my opportune stab

feel free as you fall,
warm as you grow cold,
enlightened as darkness steals your only world

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