I'm picking cherries,
and I pick you.
Pick up the phone,
please?
But-
Congratulations.
You've yet again given me the busy tone.
My fault for trying to tear down those walls,
concrete and for sure.
I should have known that your empire doesn't crumble,
simply standing tall under iron rule.
It must be beautiful on the other side.
Are you wiser?
Are you smarter?
Or is it just another shade of grey.
Over there,
not-yet-a-sea-away,
does everything speak differently?
Is french a calming medium?
Or does a raised eyebrow mean so much more?
I don't know the answers to these questions,
and I don't care.
Because I see in my own language,
that this which is what I see,
is something unique and beautiful.
Marry me,
Cherry,
and I will plant your tree in a field that is green forever.
The sun will never drop,
the sky will never fade,
the seas will speak of this hidden place in the deepest caves of my heart.
Because-
if it exists...
wouldn't you want to be there?
Or am I just exercising a power beyond my rights.
Again.
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