I felt the kiss of her lips
Touching my cheek in the darkness
And I asked
--
How come I cannot touch your face
Tell me about it please
Is it back or white
Golden or violet?
--
And she laughed
In a melodious whisper
--
You speak so strangely my dear
My face does not have any color
Does perfection have a shape
Or purity any texture?
If you could describe it
It wouldn't be any more perfect
Since then you would toss and roll
Slice and dice it
Till you find it in fault.
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