had a beautiful dream, that stayed with me in the morning. i smiled for you at the plants and laughed at my tea. my work is fueled by a quickened pulse, your teeth glinting in my grey matter, your fingers exploring the space between by breast and backbone.
the camelia has blossomed pink in the garden and the leaves begin slowly to unfurl, damp and fragile, from the tree below my window. daffodils tilt under the weight of their own yellow noses. the rest of the world is grey, still sleeping springtime, stretching contentedly under cloud cover.
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