This Extasie doth unperplex (We said) and tell us what we love — John Donne
Eight nights straight she has shaped my dreams, my sleeping and waking, her image, her image’s absence, who she and who she is not
both present and absent within me, her eyes like blue veined marble or like watery turquoise, such distance within and around her, so subtle a gesture,
so happy a glance, like shadow at play amidst sunlight, her voice so much less than a whisper, her taste in my blood as I wake.
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