Loves' Letter To Brown Sand
On the outskirts
of a line comprised
of two landscapes;
The distinction
is lost on how you've
managed to captivate me.
Afar, my pupils study
you several times over;
succeeded by dry run
thoughts yearning
to be verbalized.
Words escape me
walking on tiptoes,
holding on the possibility
that if heard, they
stumble not to the fore
of inexistence. Due to
clocks power, a measure
of petite conversations formulate
in between. My aroused pupils
correlate with yours...(SIGH) Your
soul accompanied by the brown sand you're comprised of
is indeed...
Exquisite.
Pace, G INK-U-SCRIPT
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