Just like Sharon Aulds writing her poem "First Sex", who cares... But I care if you care. The words- the poetic words, I inject them into my brain and let them stay there. I'll remember them whenever I am at exotic places. I'll morph like them. Become unknown, waiting to be discovered, the rain I form is pure, and cool, and when the sun shines and sucks the dew, I become green. Dressed with chlorophyll, I feel the vibration as it pricks and the bliss like that felt when the organs are playing in church at a wedding and the bride is marching.
I'm marching towards you, very slow, planned, and with upward spiritual velocity. I see you from a distant with a light that's becoming bigger and bigger. I'm now meeting the light, but my path is tangled with weeds, and vines, I can't get through. I can see your shadow forming opn the ground like a discarded black shirt, speading and curling.. It's getting cooler.You are icing. Till you thaw, I think I'll just hide behind the icy wall. I'm better off here.
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