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Rose Tea MAG
The days I succeed to drag my body
from my bedroom
are the days it rains heavily.
I awaken before noon, just as
the sky turns murky,
and brew my last cup of Rose Tea.
I fold my thick beige sweater across my body
my velvet chair rests nearby the window.
The rain approaches unexpectedly,
as always.
And I sit, knees to my chest as the first drops fall, and soon swarm the atmosphere.
Occasionally, I fantasize of dancing with the liquid clouds. But, I always seem to say maybe next time,
because I've only danced
with you
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