What if your fingers run into knots

rather than silken routes ?

What if , unlike perfectly trimmed hedges,

those brows are unattended ?

Would you let your lips linger and taste all that she is ?

What if the half moons of dark under her eyes keep you from walking into the shadowy sanctum of her soul ?

What if her songs are not perfectly pitched?

Will you still hold her close enough for  your breath and hers to blend into perfect harmony ?



3 thoughts on “Uncertain

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