Grass.

I wanted to write about grass today, the emerald leaves that sprout from the earth.
It is the ground’s blanket, the ground’s fur.

Yet every time I started writing my mind would go blank suddenly, and then it would go back to you.

The freshly cut grass smells delightful in the summer heat… but nothing compares to the smell of you stuck to my bed sheets.

The apple coloured blades are comforting between my palms as I pull them up from the earth… But nothing compares to your soft hair balled up in my small hands.

The light touch of the meadows tickles my skin soothingly… but nothing compares to your slender fingers running up and down my arm.

Grass is a beautiful creation, but you will forever be the best outcome of nature.

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