a glance toward
my teal‘s hour
you to listen to
warm whispers
from the sun
for the stars seem
gift of a charlatan
with the audience
in a surplus
of the nothingness
breathing the creativity
of any shadows
shinning among
teeth of the moon
©ᶜᵒᶜᵒ — un-p’tit-je-ne-sais-quoi

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