Dynamic.

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On a cool night your jacket drapes over my relaxed shoulder blades as we walk past a deserted gas station. Leaves crackle beneath our feet as our footprints disappear underneath the night sky.  We’ve been talking so long now I’m lost within our conversation and the fact that your jacket smells indistinguishably like you. The wind hits your face like no one’s I’ve ever seen, as if it is purposely trying to defy the current wind chill factor just for you. And I hate wearing gloves when I’m with you because I need to know that your hands are warm, I need to be able to feel you. Nights like this you treat me as though I’m delicate not realizing that the Earth caters to you. I’ve seen it, through Summer and Spring and yet it still shields you from its wrath. I don’t know how you inspire everything that you touch, I don’t know how everything relinquishes power to you, but right now being draped in your cloak of invincibility I don’t question your influence.

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