O_RE

DRAW, WHERE'S ITHACA?

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She comes,
whispers my name in a forgotten language.
She flows,
with her feet wet in the water motion.
She holds,
my body in her lighting source.
She flews,
She stays,
She loves,
She kissed with strawberry lust.
She knows,
I am an ancient Greek sculpture,
a died liar,
a grey picture of my forbidden soul.

KID_R KID_L