vines

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One
Through the cold month A thin grape vine curls up A ruined chimneyStanding in a field, Kissed by rain, Stone and brick Are made the same
My right-side brain's growing fowers, my lungs are sprouting roots. My heart's a dripping beehive, its sweetness all for you. So wrap it all up in paper, send a burnt offering to the sky.
As we draw closer, We become the naked vine. The two become one- Breath combined. Her skin so soft, like petals of a rose...His hands fall across her, like a gentle breeze blows. 
At first, I thought I was born to do this. It took a while to realize that mole was not, in fact, just a mole.
I dream of filling pages, but I never seem to have the words. I dream of being clever, to make people turn their heads and whisper, "how did she do that?"I want to leave them awestruck. 
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