If your words were a babbling brook,
I'd want to dabble my toes in the swirls and eddies of your cool,
clear reason, and if
a river, I'd want to dive in and float, on the current
to wherever the flow will be going, and if
an ocean,
hell,
I'd want to drown. Skin gone green and golden scaled,
as the siren spell of your words going on
weaves gills on my neck, and an anchor chain
snaps clank around my ankle
til
we talk again.
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