You are the mixed smells in my pillow cases, the lingering warmth in my blankets, the rain soaked in my clothes, the dank smell that it leaves, the chills it gives, the droplets that run down my neck and back, you make up the blood in me, the beats my heart chugs out, the aches in my bones and the soreness in my knee, you make up the colors in my eyes, and the freckles on my face, you are the sun rays in the morning, and the painted sky in the evening, the green leaves on the brown trees, the grass softer than silk, you are my skin on my body, and all its scars and marks, you make me and all that I seem to find so good and genuine.













