Mountain tops from an Undisclosed Location
Tickle me.
Tickle me teardrop,
as you drop slowly from my eye.
You make a puddle on my nose,
and I know the reason why.
Your tickle turns to itching,
that can bother the strongest of souls.
The itching becomes a burning,
that sizzles into my woes.
All I have to do is touch you,
to feel that puddle no more.
But doing so rips me from,
a tear that loved to pour.
Lying stomach to back.
Back to stomach.
Still, the little tear just laid.
A secret tear, just one so dear.
Only time when it will fade.
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