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The Kiss

Written by: Edith Nesbit | Biography
 My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious nights, nothing but rough elbows in them and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby crybaby , you fool! Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection! Once it was a boat, quite wooden and with no business, no salt water under it and in need of some paint.
It was no more than a group of boards.
But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.
My nerves are turned on.
I hear them like musical instruments.
Where there was silence the drums, the strings are incurably playing.
You did this.
Pure genius at work.
Darling, the composer has stepped into fire.



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