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Dream

of peculiar flowers/like sound of laughter/fluid in words you could spell/only after lettering down/libations on territories/virgin with mystic bites/of your footsteps/creating gardens/of hope beyond tales

Thursday, December 24, 2015

And then I knew…

You don’t find love
You create it
within yourself
till it overflows
and falls around you
pushing everything
to pick it up
and give it back
like you create it
so tenderly 
so knowingly

incessantly