I feel as if I'm a figurine
I feel like something on strings
Posed by love's fragile fingers
And possessed by a frantic
Fluttering in my chest

I am renewed. I am not of
Rags or of scraps. Pristine…
(I am something velveteen)
And I'll be like something velveteen
The charcoal clouds have finally
Finished spitting on me
Concentrating instead on painting a
Faithful portrait splashed across
The canvas of the wine read heavens
You are draped across a vast daffodil cream

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