Saturation

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Look at you, bubbles
Bloom but burn well,
Crack down a tremble, tongue
Run into her hair for a farewell.
So lift and rises are beneath, beyond
a daydream flow from one last cider she found,
Quietly crossed
And lenses filled.
Aha, scent just right there,
a laugh out of somewhere,
Dip on salt is it?
But the cider did lit,
over the face of a soaked doll, because
tears and beers are saturation's soul.

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