Watch. It advances. A blended eye to the one true contact.
Delicate, pristine night of visible disguise
Hear. It enlightens. A stuttered word to the one true conduct
Eloquent, redeemed might of audible delight
Feel. It entices. A torpid touch to the one true contract
Adequate, esteemed rite of physical device
Think. It forsakens. A frigid meme of the one true construct
Desolate, unamed light of volatile demise

Poetry Time 111: The Encounter
Andreas_Helixfinger at 12:00AM, March 2, 2025
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