A stranger to tears, she did not weep

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Her eyes were the colour of far away love,
Her arms were matching topazes.
Her lips moved soundlessly in coral light.
And ultimately, she left by that door.
Hardly had she entered the river than she was cleansed,
Gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain;
And without a backward look, she swam once more,
Swam towards nothingness, swam to her dying.
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- Pablo Neruda
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Illustration Friday – Pale

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