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Burgundy

In ruby-hued satin, she pirouettes alone, Her form a silhouette against the tone Of evening's blush, where shadows softly play, Amidst the burgundy that wraps her frame at bay. With every step, the fabric billows wide, A skirt of old-money elegance inside, Yet her bare skin glistens like polished stone, Ethereal, untainted, utterly her own. Her arms, entwined, create a pose of grace, A Botticelli vision in a modern space, As if the nymphs of ancient lore had come, To dance and twirl, unbound by mortal thumb. Time stands still in this suspended scene, Where art and life entwine, a sanguine dream, Of freedom's fleeting nature and its hold, On hearts that beat within a living mold. She is a vision born of color, light, And the intoxicating thrill of unbridled might, A fleeting moment preserved in embered thought, Of a woman bold, in radiance untaught.

Me Julie

In a world filled with shattered promises and destroyed hopes, there existed a unique way of addressing one's significant other. In this world, known as the world of birds, each male participant would call their female partner by a single name: "Me Julie." 

This endearing term was like a secret language, understood only by those who were part of this unconventional society. It was a way of showing affection and devotion, a way of declaring that this person was the one for them, the one they would fly with forever. 

But within this world, there was also heartache and betrayal. For every successful partnership, there were countless others that ended in pain and sorrow. Yet still, the tradition of calling one's partner "Me Julie" remained, a reminder of the love that once was and the hope for love that could still be.



And so, as the sun set over the treetops and the birds nestled into their nests, the world of "Me Julie" continued on, a beautiful and complex tapestry of love and loss, of happiness and heartache, all expressed through a single, simple name.

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