affection is not a technique
it is a rainfall of joyous weep,
a windswept of an embrace,
an evaporation into a dream.
affection has no stance,
no permanence to its passing.
it is a blush
as much as a bloom.
both having the presence of embrace as display,
discreet or otherwise.
there is a distortion of distances between.
the share-space fills uniquely.
emotions may scamper with little feet.
silence may take on an unheard roar.
the deliverance may have mind-fill aftermath.
but its incentive
originally came from the heart . . .
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