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"Waking"
by Jeph Johnson
We had some sort of sex last night or something to the intimate equivalent.
She let me touch her as she smiled and I believed again in bliss for I recalled it once existed.
And those smiles were accompanied by the soft and gentle closing of emerald eyes.
Her cheeks faintly kissed my fingertips as I began painting a mural of the only real glimpse I've ever had of love.
Even in my dreams my art's misunderstood, for I woke up long before I should've.
