She sat down beneath the forest 
and as the symphony grew louder
there were memories from long ago
flooding into a smokey room of sage 
a blankness
black towers and crackling of crows
crows she once knew
before she started to remember
before she started to remember
the light
pensive lines with delicate hands
that grabbed onto whiskey for comfort
during solemn nights
carefully cut out crafted windows in lapis blue
that gave the illusion of a fairytale
so far away from her
peel away the melody
with her Gauloises 
and her nights
with her 
pale green eyes and 
ivory skin

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