she may have claimed that she would always find one of those rare desperately sought four-leaf clovers amongst any cluster that had sprouted amidst the grass and **** growth of park or pasture but never once did she try to find one for me
It doesn’t matter how much weight you carry. It’s about how you distribute. Pain diffusion is like sunlight through leaves; it takes courage to let brightness pierce through and kiss you. So stay with me, right here, by your tree roots, where cyclamen grow. Hold my hand like you always knew me. Forgive my shyness as I fidget with toe rings of clover - I promise; I’m less and less scared - I still love your wildness. I feel you, all over. Eyes, of Pure Water. My lack of sharpness is yearning to soften your edges. I’m floating above your garden, weightless. The ripeness of fruit that your highest tree bares, smells like a rose you delivered. If we really are here to mirror, all I want to do for you is shimmer.