For RSL
Is it your scent that makes me dream(of thunders and low floating feathers)or your slender, weightless frame?
Is it when you deftly part air–(whistling, like picking flowers)Or when you mess with everyone’s hair?
How can something so graceful,Be something so powerful?
I steady myself with these thoughtsChasing my breath,While those who would defeat usStand in motionless aweWatching our [...]
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