There are some women

who are a drop of the ocean.

There are few

that are the ocean

in a drop.

Fewer still

are the ones

that drown oceans.

Perhaps some women

do not long for the moon

after all.



Were you to gaze
upon the imperfections
of her body,
you would know
the exact moment
when chocolate melts.
When the last chisel is made
into the cutting of a diamond.
When the leaves metamorphose
from green to gold
in preparation for the coming

Were you to listen
to the way she laughs,
you would know
the sound of wind chimes
for the very first time.
You would know
the familiar crunch
of leaves beneath your toes.
You would know
the precise moment,
as her soothing sounds
hit your ears,
that you did not know what music was
until her.

There is seeing her.
and then
there is knowing her.

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