Your slightest look easily will unclose me,
though I have closed myself. As fingers,
you open petal by petal my heart
as spring opens her first rose.
Your slightest touch shall easily be my demise,
though I know how to swim.
You drown me in thunderous waves of
torrential April showers. I lay here
soaking and gasping for air.
Your slightest word will devour my thoughts.
Though I cherish simplicity,
you have tilled a garden of flowers
so that I may forget the thorns in the sides of my past.
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