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Ghazal 12 Not the blossom of song not the veil of music I am the sound of my own breaking You toy with the length of your dark curls I am captive to my own dark thoughts We brag to ourselves that we are different this weakness has burdened our simple grief Now you have come and I find myself bowing this blessing a sadness this prayer a longing I am a fragment sounding the dawn you are the walls of my every echo |