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About This Poem
Blissful noise
If love be the manure
That means I am the plant
Readying to submerge
into your shelter sweet
In perfect harmony
with my youthful yearnings.
If roses were hands
Then I’d be the bee
Hoping to stand on
nectary flowers
Wishing for closure.
If jail means you
I’d lose the key
And stick by you
Till forever
Whispering
Sweet nothings
Until dusk
Making
Blissful
noise.
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