Heavy Life: A RiddlebyTheDR4KE©
Without, 'tis a thing of the body.
Only physical touch, nothing more.
Not a moment of depth o'er six inches.
Without, either one could be whore.
With, 'tis a ritual of meaning.
Every bite, every scratch, a keepsake.
Just the memory of touch is a blessing.
With, all is Light - 'til It breaks.
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