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Poetry by C. Eve

I am the First Eve.

May 23, 2016March 6, 2018

Cold Season

The winter smells of
blood,
a rich urgent color
perfectly fresh and
my very essence beckoned to me,
seductive.
The herald of bad news,
of disaster
and scars
yet cold, white burning
pleasure.

Posted in Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTagged c.eve, dark, dark poetry, eve, ofeve, poem, poet, poetry, shadowofeve, thefirsteve, uncategorized, writingBy shadowofeve

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