the way
you move, so swiftly against the weight of the world.
the way
you speak, with intelligence full of wonder.
the way
you write, a dark sensation herded against the warlike.
the way
you dream, struck in terror by thoughts of the wakeless.
the way
you look, as if you’re walking on air.
the way
you think, never falling short of being warmhearted.
call those
wacka wacka; even they can’t stop me from being engulfed by your angel fire.
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