One of my fave drawings so far in quarantine.

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Haptic silicone lips
could never
replace ear to heartbeat
or make eutectic
our quiet romance,
the melody
played facinorous
in wait of ending
our endless phases,
and daydreams were
made sweet outcasts
on whimsical peace
we'd found delight in.

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It was a misty day
Shadows of January rain
Hid your pain

And the clouds wore grey
When you quietly
Slipped away

Perhaps there was snow
I don't know...

You forgot to say goodbye
Then we remembered
How to cry



Art | Amy Sol

30 72

Mandatory.

Hope you like it

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There is irony
in being artfully
productive
while having
no impulse
to be productive,
drawing afterglows
with a negative mind,
syncing respect
to damaging pressures
until there is none
of the latter
in the matter.
Oh, solitude.

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Squeezing 3 am chaos
into void
no more limbo
suffocating toxic questions
could have
would have
should have
I want to live in the moment !

18 51

I fucking love unholyverse okay smh

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