Trapped between gold and blue, piercing light and sweet deception -- and before I turn back to you I must balance the moment of indecision and offer you only half my thought -- though I had thought not -- hoped to give you all of myself, blooming with irony and contradiction, bearing you angels and demons, warm truth and shady fiction. But my feet might slip from the edge, follow reactions into tradition --
and so take this daylight half for me that is your own, while the nighttime woman roams alone and never visits her sister at home -- take this friendly laugh, this nod for everything that's yours, this brilliant nontime sky. And it might be so, or only a lie, that it conceals all midnight's stars.
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