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A Writer's Passion
Breath
drips
and I find I'm drinking in
the silken vapors you spill onto my head that drip
and fall to my lips
I drink, I drink
I taste
until what's left of the waters is dew
Drop, dribble, drip
I want to catch it in my hand and hold it
Caress it
I want to stroke the infinitesimal drink of life in the square of my palm
until it spreads over and dances with my skin and
is mine
I want it to be mine
I thirst for the dew of your exhales because that is where I find what fills
my lungs
and my heart
and the flicks of my fingers
That is what rolls pen on parchment
Words, breathe onto me until I am immersed
and drowning
and your winds are dense around my head, pressure on my ears
I long to speak
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