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53 Lothario Today he cups his hands into a heart, Unable to hold anything but air. Desire, like ocean, seeps between his palms; He sees reflections of it everywhere. Tonight he sprouts a pair of flashy wings, But only sets the lantern as his goal (It’s warmer than the moon, and near).Take care, My love, the blinded mothworm of his soul Will nibble hungrily, for that’s his art: To spoil the fleecy vestment of your heart. ...

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