The blanket that falls
against my skin in savasana.
The scent of lavender
on warm hands that smooth
my shoulders and neck,
linger at my temple.
What wants to move
through the body
will move.
Sometimes mercy is a touch
you didn’t know you craved.
Sometimes grief
is a ballad spurned
that blooms
along the silken spine.
Beautiful my dear friend, beautiful. Love you.
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Thank you, magnificent friend. Love you!
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