Molding The Perfect Creation

I mold you in my hands. Like putty I shape you through these eyes. Running my fingers through your hair like the dropping of sands. Creating the perfect love is my gift before my cries. I weep in sorrow from losing my creation. This perfect love isnt so perfect. Yet such a deviation. I know I deserve it. I dream now though. I dream of molding you again. Soon to follow the cracks in which the water flows. It shall create the perfect eyes and this certainty is the burning that glows.

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