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Whisper, Daily 35
35.
Next to the soft skin of the lobe whisper
As poetically as leaves fall
I need you.
This grasping awkward clinging is not natural
As simply as breeze sweeps
Do you need me?
You break it open and lose fluidity by wanting
As drastically as desert drought
Will you miss me?
Now tenderness is but a duty like a birthday card
As closely as freeze binds
Do you love me?
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