Albertine

You nipped the light pink petal cladded in green the way you nipped the nipple of a maiden born in early winter whose lips bitting a little bit in a beat so pleasant she crunched her teeth an ivory white a white that bore sparkles its seeds etched to skins so chilly but it grew out of spring's wombs till then there would be heard streams floating and floating like her garments you caressed your tears would be wiped by fluffy wings is this the end of the new start but you want to be an infant asking absurd questions no more so you just bury your head to the giant windmill stitched to this freshly unearthened earth.

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