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Jan 2017
cliché to compare it to a flower
but when it blossomed, i was in awe
like petals opening slowly and
all at once
delicate, tempting
to look not to touch
it buds and i feel it
the rivers that drip
the pressure that builds
when the oceans collide
to touch, vulnerable
soft; easy to tear
but to feel
to feel
too much
the glaciers melt into seas

cliché to compare it to a flower
but it smells just so
like dew's morning mist
and the grass in the meadows
a hint of sharpness
covered with the breeze
if it be not a flower
then you have not pleased

it'll open with kindness
close with pleasure
cliché to compare it to a flower
but it too depends on the weather
the temperature the humidity
the friction the electricity
finding in a thunderstorm
the second of serene
counting down till the lightning arrives;

as i watch it blossom
i wonder just this
how did this result
with only one kiss?
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