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Last Image

My eyes have traced paths along the lines of your face 100 times or more, I've watched the rise and fall of your chest while you sleep, I know the joy in your eyes as though it were my own. You run away with the wind and rise with the sun, we get lost under the stars and sail the same path as the moon then disappear into the horizon. Wings spread wide open pressing up into the clouds, the world so stunning below, I call with the song of the crow and watch as they glide across the sky in circles above, coyotes laughing in the background, time becomes obsolete as I try to find the Milky Way.

Silhouettes melt together becoming synchronized in the night, my eyes trace the lines of your face one more time as you disappear into the dark of the light.

The last image.

- A. B. Quintana

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