Both of you affect my system, like how water - hot or cold - sustain my life.
the cold absence of its color, its odor greets my pointing finger as the skin contacts the green pail meant for a hurried bath.
and then the other mass, formed in between contrapped spaces of a plain, white mug, to make rhythmic pulses with an energy.
ah, the morning.
and you.
yes.
both of you.
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