SPIRITUAL AI

TRUST ME, I AM NOT A POET I'm only half-hearted patiently poor, my fingers need a lot of time, to pick up one by one word, all of which I take from your body.  Love, is the reason I repeat to collect meaning, that from all the way home, the rotation of the earth rewards you to be here, and in your eyes, words always bloom, I never finish sowing.  Regarding wounds, I keep them far away on the slopes of the highest heart, let them be difficult for me to reach, let them feel arrogant with a sharp look, then when they are tired of enduring, they will succumb to gravity; melt yourself.  All the words I have are just an attempt, so that you can sit beside me for a long time, read the depth of feelings, guess the secrets in the corners of the eyes, or pick up some meanings, which I actually shyly tuck you in every curve of the letters.  I'm not a poet! I'm just a woman who likes troubled sunsets, also nights that sleep is held back, and of course I love you like rain,