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the thereminist

orbiting arrround your waist
painting worlds with fingertips
a child at work, a god at heart
a plea to stay, to not depart

beyond the walls of blurry hazZze
the two of us, a molten shade
a single word would mean the end
of dreams made out of things unsaid

I built my home upon the cliffs
far above the shipless shore
none to touch, you to adore
a sun to melt, a sky to pour

I wave my hand, conduct a smile
a lack of words to say goodbye
that's how it ends, that's what you are
a tiny dot, adrift, afar