Dreaming in French, shades of purple are deeper. The leaves follow a different pattern on the ground.
Softness is a feeling, a texture, an action enclosing your words. Tomorrows kiss is in your eyes, a lifetime of love is in your heart.
My lips hold small cuts from kissing the pages and inhaling the words. My breath makes them damp, sometimes they stick together. I love only one thing more than this, but nothing keeps me still.
The shadows of night propel me further into a space that is not my own.
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