Sweet songs lie on the edge of your tongue, like honey droplets. Your lips, a manifestation of celestial sweetness. Eyes, heavy as gravity and as light as the Sun. Your birth, a holy day, a holiday. You’ve awakened me, stirred something beautiful from this wretched soul. Baptismal attire must be worn around you at all time. Or all white everything. For you’re a cleansing soul, washing away sins like tidal waves. I shall bathr in your aura religiously, routinely. Like sleep. 


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