Then the contours of your words
Succulent and fine
Lay intertwined
Soft and supple
They breathe
Defining moments
Nourishing a novel creed
You say the contours change
But I wish to feed every range
As my evenings subside
Into more defined measure
As my words take a definite ride
To find life in your treasure
The contours weave a miasma of dreams, challenging our everyday beliefs. Are they the stuff that keep us going? Rediscover yourself, dear!
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