She stood there looking like the moon, hung graciously and lit up. The glow of a radiant flower. I love you, the painter said, as she sips some wine. Lips red and soft, fancy velvet dress. Sip. Sip.
She thanked him for the dance and they walked together. Away from the village in to the dark medow brook...hot and damp. They walked whispering breaths. Depths of their graves, so brave and radiant.
Sweet Love Surrender. Be You.
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