As the scars stare back at my knees as a child I remember him; always before me and infinitely past.
This listing perfume; love as is; caresses me without any reality as touch or see.
It rises through my creative juices that flow as my blood through my heart that loves.
It rises; this has been; un had romance and all the unknown glory and lists and dreams as unreachable, and to remain this scar or stain or beautiful work of art as is and forever producing like mist from water:
me.
This life I have; the source that is. My reality; as formed.
I am quenched;
not as I thought.
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