the air is kissed again and again,
with the misted sound of
those who think they have fallen in love.
but for one who maliciously
melts thoughts together,
in the palm of your hand
I become strictly comedic.
understanding without recollection,
my smile becomes famous to you.
and then they realize
our laughter holds hidden
more love,
than a poem written over and over
becoming only perfect,
to the one who will cherish it.
so unlike the unsatisfied writer
our love of laughter is
exhaustively satisfying.
-Jill
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