From the Mind
There is Sweat on my skin.
It clings to me,
Sticks to me
Much like a parasite would.
I wish to wash it off.
But sweat is no longer a parasite
When it is shared.
There is Sweat on our skin.
It clings to me,
Sticks to me
Much like a parasite should.
I wish to leave it be,
To leave it to soak
Like a sponge;
Absorbing you.
Your Sweat is on my skin.
And I thank you,
For I now have an essence
Of you.
It is not a parasite,
But a treasure that I wish
to keep for me.
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About the Creator
J. L. Balmer
General scribbler
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