I wanted the love letters carved, not delicately etched, so they could remain permanent, as scars in my flesh. I needed the words engraved, without pause or restraint, by fervent hands yearning, for where my skin lay in wait.
The shade has fallen under the tree... so take my hand and lie there with me. Your calloused hands and my haunted green eyes... can then tangle together under mostly clear skies.
Those hands exist as delicate etchings scribed deep inside my mind... And none like yours I'm sure to ever find.
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