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Mar 2020
A rainstorm into an open field
Soaking my pigments with
Colors nonexistent;
You’re a solar storm,
Irradiating, enriching me
In serenity transcendent.
Otherworldly on my tongue;
You are a forgotten language
Awaiting translation,
Patience and understanding.
Someone to take the time
To comprehend your words
Unspoken and unread.
Trust me to hold you,
To listen and read
With consideration and delicacy.
Know that I’m here for you to
Whisper your unknowns in my ear,
And compose your silent correspondence
On my skin with your lips
Without fear.
Philology: 1. The study of literature and of disciplines relevant to literature or to language as used in literature
Tafuta Atarashī
Written by
Tafuta Atarashī  28/M/Chicago
(28/M/Chicago)   
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