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wine of blood
sunlight caresses thou eyes,
midnight unlocks thou soul,
f'rfeit thyself to thy heart,
as Ic am a canvas f'r thy art.
spilleth'd wine and lies,
crimson blood imprinted rose eventually dies,
as an ecstatic mem'ry hath carried hence by the sh're,
thee and i art the beginning of the endeth.
A memory that ever so lightly touches upon one's soul yet remains distant. A beginning that is meant to be the end.