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Think me mad. I pour milk upon the counter      and dip my fingers over it. I dab delicate perfume into a velvet pillow      and lay my head down not to sleep,      but for the experience. I look to my left      and smile at the air beside me. Think me mad. I speak gently to the walls      and pause to hear the reply. I buy kick-knacks in twos      and keep the second in a special drawer. I detail poems of pristine love and longing      and leave them to be found in the house      of which I am the only resident. Think me mad. I pour the milk to watch it spread      and edge and cascade      in the color and way of your skin. I dab perfume into velvet to remember how it was to lay with you. I smile at the air because, to me, you are always there and that is worth smiling about. Do you think me mad? I converse with walls as I imagine that you stand between they and I. I buy trinkets in twos to always have a gift ready that was chosen with you in mind. I leave love poems around the house on the chance that we might both, one day, call it home. Surely I am mad.
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Mad
Think me mad. I pour milk upon the counter      and dip my fingers over it. I dab delicate perfume into a velvet pillow      and lay my head down not to sleep,      but for the experience. I look to my left      and smile at the air beside me. Think me mad. I speak gently to the walls      and pause to hear the reply. I buy kick-knacks in twos      and keep the second in a special drawer. I detail poems of pristine love and longing      and leave them to be found in the house      of which I am the only resident. Think me mad. I pour the milk to watch it spread      and edge and cascade      in the color and way of your skin. I dab perfume into velvet to remember how it was to lay with you. I smile at the air because, to me, you are always there and that is worth smiling about. Do you think me mad? I converse with walls as I imagine that you stand between they and I. I buy trinkets in twos to always have a gift ready that was chosen with you in mind. I leave love poems around the house on the chance that we might both, one day, call it home. Surely I am mad.
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
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