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The Minotaur's Breath

by N.C. Whitehead

he wept at the feeling
of the girl's limp body
in his hands

while her soul rose up
as the wisps of his breath
in the cold labyrinth.

she was yet another Athenian
too fragile for
his lonely grasp,

yet another broken doll
who seemed to live
as his tears rolled down her face