I will speak freely just for a moment in the hopes that perhaps a small bit of what makes me amazing may be etched in electronic ink. You are a carnation I never want to pick. A stand out among a sea of flowers. And though others lean towards roses, tulips, even daisies; you stand firm. I wish I could lay in the grass and count your petals. But my eyes are not keen enough. I wish I could gently uproot you from the ground. But my fingers are too brawny and coarse. Maybe one day my eyes will change colors? Perhaps the callous will wash away and only leave smooth dainty hands. I wait knowing that even though I have not pressed you inside my own book, I've at least affirmed you in text. I apologize for my lack of technique. I've been in a rut for some while. But tonight you have temporarily freed me from the bastion of self deprecation I so shoddily stood in.
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