Shutter stutter step, prance halfway in the room.

You are Rudolph. Your nose is bright red, scheming silent guidance in a room for just us.

Be purposeful. Speak your words with strength.

Pretend you know the answers until you have to concede to google.

You are encyclopedias of perfection. You know how many syllables are in onomatopoeia off the top of your head.

You know six synonyms for the word love.

But you know that none measure up to the feeling of the word “love”.

Carry them on your back, even when you’re tired.

Let them suck away every bit of your excitement and build it back up anyways.

Give all your hope over to them, let them swallow all that you are whole.

They are the moons reflect your shining existence.

You are God to them. You are God to me.


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