Dedra* (wonder_child) wrote,

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Points of Convergence

Sometimes I open myself up to the sky
and I just wait with my arms extended.

I wait for the sky to pour
or to shift colour

or to unabashedly cloud my vision with something so beautifully blinding I can hardly catch my breath.

You know, the sky's not really the sky at all.

It's simply a nice figure of speech living in my line of vision,
next to all those faceless you's.
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