Dry as the Sahara: my mouth and that small part of my brain/soul that shapes ideas into words.
Juxtaposed: the biblical torrent flooding the sidewalks and bathing the tulips, from which we are safe and also dry inside.
boom and I baked today.
And napped.
Being dry isn’t all that bad. Sometimes I am frustrated because I know I’m not leaving clues for my future self for when she is lost or alone. But then, I suppose she’ll get through anyway.
Because, though dry of words and water, I am wealthy in love.
And she is me: a lucky girl, in love and loved
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