NaPoWriMo {Day 12}

Style: Cascade

Craving something only the heavens can brush
The here now cannot contain this soul
Take off the lens, my dear

I trod as if fashioned of dreams
Steps unable to kiss the earth
Craving something only the heavens can brush

Rigid handshakes with phantoms
Exchanged mock, wide-eyed smiles with ghosts
The here now cannot contain this soul

Then you appeared
Hues and tints and shades spilling on this white and black tiled world
Take off the lens, my dear

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