#44) The Spot

You are the spot I can’t wash away; the vigilant stain which streaks my day

With colors of warmth to vanquish the gray, that seeps from the shadows, and clouds up my way


You are the moon, gentle and bright, who cradles the stars, and softens each night

I spend every dream reaching for you, and wish that you’ll never fade into blue


You are the rain, soothing my skin, drenching my soul, sustaining my sin

I’ve drowned beneath you, again and again, while playing each game, I know I can’t win


You are the sun, a furnace of heat–that burns though the lies, and trips up my feet


You catch me before the ground and I meet; then tell me, so sure, I’m all yours to keep


You are the love, I’ve waited to find; the one, only chain, I never shall mind


You are the thing that eats up my time


The permanent spot, which stays only mine


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