I touch the interiors of black abyss
And I feel death in my hand
I turn her over in my fingers
I dance with her in the moonshine
The shameless waltz of my dark thoughts
I penetrate her incorporeality
And I feel that I have her in me
She is the miraculous well
In which I would like to sink every day
And touch her soul,
And tear to pieces her heart
To absorb all
What is conceals before me.
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