p.188

am I not a white rose?
silken,
few;
purity in its most elegant form?

am I not a black gale?
thunderous,
cold;
passion in its most ravenous form?

am I not a shimmering raven
am I not a glistening dove
am I not the object of your affection
or the unleashing of your love?

I am all of these things.
I needn’t you to tell me.
But I ask you regardless
the things I already know.

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