Her.

What more is there to say about her?

I love how her muddied eyes ground me, with hints of hazelnut and nostalgia in my morning coffee,

I love her like the warm desert sand filters through fingers, I love her like salted chilled sand on a child’s curious tongue,

I love her like the light greets bright green leaves at daybreak, an extended hand parting the clouds to meet wooden fingertips,

I love her like an innocent IOU,

I love her like a dancer breathes the stage, I love her like a bass guitarist plucks my heartstrings, I love her like a blank canvas, excited by never-ending  possibilities,

I love her like the Sun longs for the Moon, caught in elusive dance,

Her. Always out of reach.

What more is there to say about her?

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