It's been like this for a long time.
Don't get me wrong. The moment I say you and I are the one of the same body, an ignoramus poetry reader may come up with an outrageous imagination. I don't know, but to me, you are a virgin stone that lay prostrate by the roadside. And as far as I am concerned, nobody can kick you around. I can't help it, but you are a beam of cool water amidst October at the mountain of Seol-Ahk, in Kang-Won province. If I can push it further, you are the blue, pretty blue, moss that hangs onto the back of my lonely big rock in the dark, in a deep mountain during the short lives of ours.
Why can't I say something that I want to say to my warm moss.
© Ryang Suh 2016.10.15
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