she won’t choose what is right
an insult to the depths of herself
mistrusting requirements
abandoning them for the magic of identity
the suggestion of the eternal
she doesn’t die
she can’t
without colliding with the everlasting
transitory Universe
a function of the old trouble
we come from a knot
no nearer embracement
than when we believe ourselves to be
she wanted to believe
windswept and trembling
she wanted
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