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Gwrach y Rhibyn
She calls out his name, tender terror, soft and sweet. She wants to save him, her hand dangling from the dark, reaching into the realms that death doesn’t dare, an impossibly placed omen, owing nothing to anybody, but holding them by their collars, by their souls, with no gratitude, shielding their eyes from the certain…
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May Queen
I am The May queen, in your eyes, gifted by the gods, early, eagerly unwrapped, by your earnest hands, with poppies in my hair, and your love in my heart, but truthfully, I am twenty seven beads of amethyst, held in place with snowy silver, that you wear on your wrist, February born and full…