crab apple blossoms touch the edges of her brown eyes
telekinetically sending you blooming crab apple trees and black water
i know i can't say anything to make it right
i need to find my happy thought, first
make a huge mark, be turned into something huge
smile shyly knowing it's me
the way her hand rests into the bottom of the paint
it's the perfection of the act of sex
be happy
be happy.
float with me up into that smell,
getting married on my mind
you're right they do turn green.
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