126.

You are like deftly prose.
You are the finest touch, to my existence,
I cannot allow you to slip right under my nose.

I smell a flowers scent,
I feel a romance that,

Can grow into the most,
Flowering and branching off.

Officially feeling the vibrations,
for far too long I’ve been lost in this generation.

We are like a deadly rose,
Thorns attached, attachment that is worth some gold.

The pedals may fall, but they definitely grow, as we reap what we sow.

I just want you to know:
I had the epiphany that we are not human, but are simply and infinitely souls.

I have to sing a bit,
to let the breath of my body flow.

The oxygen got clogged in my veins, and now I can blow —

I whistled to the trees, and the trees talked back.
The nature of the sky doesn’t exactly,
Because the universe is that.

The grand show is up top,
And while the movement of the stars are within.

The sun and moon is locked, and, so loving you is a win.