A Satin Inch

Icy benches, the early city sky
falling in slapping waves upon hands
pale fingers extended, collecting from the heavens
the weighty hum, photographic music

A crushing clutch pulls in to out
violent forceful agony
of all thats been lost and all that will be lost
Images in flashes
photographs and key changes
The day I rose to a satin inch
And fought to hold my grace
an artificial angel
dressed in tulle and anticipation

A daughter to her father
It was my gift to you

I wish you saw me dance

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