Zywa
Skin of my soul
In the pond, I warm myself by the sun
like a prince to be kissed
a girl dances water lilies
around me, her mirror dress
touches me for a moment
Would her lips only bend to me
to lick the salt from my skin
and the skin from my soul
then I would fly magic butterflies
down to her toes, would I anoint
and crown her, wallow in her
seeds around us, so light
that they don't cast shadows
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